Corpus delicti
by Chaed
Summary: preMansion. STARS are assigned to the case of a hysterical madman. When he takes down their car in the middle of Arklay Mountains, they are at the mercy of the psychopath hunter. Chris, Jill, Barry, Brad, Wesker, a criminal and a snowstorm.
1. Chapter I

**corpus delicti  
**the body of a crime

_By_: Chaed  
_Rating_: T  
_Disclaimer_: Would this be called fanfiction otherwise?

_A/N: _This story isn't directly connected with my other Mansion and PostMansion ones, though it is still part of the series. Please enjoy your read, and drop your opinion in a review, if you want to take the time for it!

* * *

Chapter I

"What's up for today?" Chris asked as he waited for the coffee machine to fill the cup with the steaming liquid.

Jill took a sip of her own drink, enjoying the warmth spreading through her body. Even though the heating was on in the RPD, every look outside the window let her freeze innerly. It was February, the middle of winter and like every year Raccoon City had disappeared under a thick layer of snow.

"If there's no emergency calls, only paperwork," she said, smiling at Chris. "And for once in my life I'm glad that Bravo's got that recent mission and can spend their day trotting through Arklay Mountains."

The coffee machine beeped when it finished and Chris took hold of the cup.

"I don't know," he said, motioning for her to follow him back to the STARS office. "They get to have all the fun."

Jill rolled her eyes. "And the frostbite."

"We're stuck with the paperwork. I'd trade that for a real mission any time!"

"Who wouldn't?" Jill said, lifting an eyebrow. "I'm just trying to be optimistic here. Besides; the sooner we finish, the earlier we can go home."

They opened the door with the bold letters STARS written on it. Of the five desks in the room, two were currently occupied. Chris nodded a greeting to Barry Burton. The other occupant of the room was Brad Vickers, pilot of Alpha team. Currently he was engrossed in the crossword of 'Raccoon Today'. Judging by the mostly empty page he hadn't come far yet.

"What's up Barry?" Jill asked, setting the coffee down on her own table. She put it on top of a thick stack of folders. It was a reminder of how much she still had to go through today.

"Not much. Checking the guns, but they're already in an impeccable condition."

"No wonder," Chris said. "After all the times you cleaned them since last mission, I bet they are!"

Jill let her gaze wander to the window. From here she had a good view of the RPD parking lot. Usually, at least. All cars were coated with a thin – or thicker - of snow by now. She searched for her old green Ford among them. She'd arrived not an hour ago and if it hadn't been standing on one of the reserved places for officers, she probably couldn't have distinguished it from the others. All cars were white.

"Hey, Brad. What does the weather report say?"

There was a short shuffling of pages, then Brad said, "No changes. They say snowing's going to pick up by the afternoon. Might turn into an actual storm by night. Tomorrow and the day after look about the same."

"Sweet," Jill said.

"I bet Bravo's got a lot of fun down there," Chris suggested.

"Not as much fun as us," Jill said with a grin and held up a report.

Chris snorted. "Any time. I'd swap with them _any_ time." A short pause. "Where's the Captain?"

"Rendezvousing Irons," Barry said.

"About time." When Wesker went to Irons it could mean two things. A, getting something approved or signed, the bureaucratic stuff. That happened about 20 of the time. The other 80 were B: Discussing possible missions for the STARS teams.

While Irons was the Chief of Police – he always stressed the fact that he was the one with the last say – Wesker had a way of making Irons do whatever he wanted. Be it an additional member to the team, a change in equipment, or, what Jill favored the most, new tasks.

The majority of operation Jill had been on in her time with STARS were unique. Some more dangerous than others, challenging both physically and mentally, but always rewarding. She guessed it had to do something with the fact of how their moves were coordinated, and who received what task. Everyone got their piece of action and that mostly correlated with the way the Captain divided them.

In the beginning, especially Chris had had problems with Wesker's commands – she had to admit that they weren't always easy to see through at first – but after a few run-ins between the two and Chris' realization that he was wrong most of the time, the team had grown to something Barry liked to call 'a hell of a troop'.

The door to the office swung open. Captain Wesker walked in, a folder in his hand. He gave a curt nod into their direction, before moving to his own desk. The team had fallen silent, following him with their eyes.

Something had happened. Jill could feel it. She saw it by the way the Captain strode across the room and by the slight trace of satisfaction visible on his face. It was a sign that he had accomplished what he wanted.

Wesker leant against his desk and tipped a finger against the closed folder. Then he looked at them (it always sent a chill down Jill's spine when those reflecting glasses turned into her direction) and a smirk settled on his lips.

"Bravo Team requests assistance."

From the corner of her eye she saw Chris murmur a silent 'Yes!', Brad abandoning the crossword and Barry looking up from the guns. Jill breathed out slowly. The news that the Bravos weren't coping with the situation wasn't smashing, but Jill was eager to get in motion and help them.

"What's their problem exactly, sir?" Chris asked.

"The weather, mostly." Wesker made a sweeping motion toward the window. The snow had picked up. Small flakes started to deposit on the window.

"You are all familiar with the case, yes?" Wesker asked.

One by one, they nodded. Three weeks ago the first corpses had been found. One clean headshot and an accurately cut throat, probably by some bad-ass knife. The bullet belonged to a modern hunting rifle. Jill had forgotten the exact brand, but that was just a minor detail.

Two days after the corpses were found – accidentally by other hikers – signs were put up advising not to venture into that part of the woods. Rangers searched for the culprit, but couldn't find anyone. That didn't mean that he didn't find them. He did. And left an arrow spiked in one of the rangers' backs.

At that point STARS were instructed to handle the case. Both teams had done early investigations, but Irons decided to assign only the Bravos to the mission on-site. That had been Monday. It was Friday now.

"The weather makes it hard to track him down," Wesker said. "They have to split up to cover enough ground before the snow cloaks the suspect's traces. Marini just reported the first hostile encounter."

Jill furrowed a brow "They found him after all?"

"No. He showed himself. Joseph Frost sustained a graze shot on his arm. Luckily, they were able to avoid further confrontation. However, in consideration of the worsening weather Marini has cancelled today's search." He tapped his finger against the folder. "Which will give us enough time to make it there before sundown."

From the corner of her eye she saw the slightest grin spread across Chris' lips. Secretly, Jill was excited about this new turn of events too. Either Enrico just wanted to be on the safe side by calling for aid, or the situation really required it. In which case they would have to be very careful. A psychopath offing innocents without reason was dangerous enough, but if the psychopath tried killing fully trained STARS officers dangerous wasn't suitable anymore.

Wesker came to each of their desks and gave them a copy of the files.

"These are the latest happenings. Read them, we'll have the main briefing once we reach the camp. Chris, you and Barry will go and gather the equipment. Pack kevlar and ammo, I don't want to have any surprises once we arrive. Brad, transportation. Jill, Marini faxed a list of things they still need, please organize them."

He studied his watch for a moment, then said, "We leave in half an hour. I would also advise you to dress up properly – the Arklay Mountains are a cold place and we'll spend most of the time outside."

--

They were ready twenty minutes later. Chris and Barry had packed two duffel bags of equipment and were currently loading it into the van. Brad checked the car a last time then they got in. Brad and Barry in the front and Wesker, Chris and herself in the back. The van was divided into two closed compartments, so that the only means of communication between the two sections was an old radio device.

Since the Bravos had taken the STARS car (Irons refused to invest into a second one), they now had to resort to one of the normal RPD vehicles, usually used for criminal transportation.

'_All right, children,_' Barry's voice crackled over the radio. _'Buckle up, we're leaving.'_

The van sat into motion and Jill looked out of the back window, where Raccoon's police department slowly transformed into one of those little snow domes. Opposite of her, Wesker and Chris were studying a map of the Arklay Mountains.

She pulled her shawl up with a shudder. The heating hadn't warmed the back of the van yet and it was nearly as cold as outside. She wished she had taken a cap with her. Or at least her beloved beret. But there hadn't been the time and she wasn't one to let the team wait.

Ten minutes later they passed the city limits and with that, they let the paved street behind them. Asphalt turned into earthy forest road. Ever so often the car's rear swerved off the planned way, sliding on the ice layer on top of the ground. Sitting in the back, Jill felt it the most. Brad managed to control it quite well, even though he had to slow down distinctively.

'_It'll be a …it of…ro...d' _

She could pick out Barry's voice from in between the static, but not what he spoke.

"What did he say?"

Chris shrugged in response. Wesker pushed the button that allowed transmission from their side of the car.

"Barry?"

No answer.

"Barry, can you hear me?" Wesker repeated.

Apparently, he couldn't. Barry kept silent and the three of them eyed the device installed in the front of their compartment closely. The little lamp shone red.

"It's stuck," Chris said. "The light should blink."

"It doesn't seem to like such low temperatures, does it?" Jill questioned, smiling slightly. She didn't, either. Jill was more of a summer person. She felt uncomfortable if she had to wear a dozen coats of clothing to battle the cold and she couldn't remember a winter where she hadn't been sick. It usually started with a runny nose, then progressively evolved into a big time flu, fever included. This of course, tended to happen around Christmas or New Years Eve.

"It would just need a thorough examination," Chris suggested.

"Until then, we'll have to solve the problem otherwise," Wesker said and unbuckled his seatbelt. Standing up he moved over to the device and gently knocked his finger against it twice, then, once more, harder.

They caught the end of Barry's sentence.

'…_OLD ON!' _

But there was no more time to answer. There was an impact, throwing Chris and Jill against their seatbelts and Wesker off his feet. The van swayed, got off the road, the brakes squeaking in protest. Brad tried to adjust their direction, Jill held on to the nearest thing – one of the bags – and then they did the first flip.

Her head collided against something hard, she heard Wesker moan and saw a flash of Chris's stunned face as the car turned the second time.

On the third turn all lights went out. Even the little red one on the radio device.

* * *

**Welcome back, fellow readers!**

**I hope you enjoyed the last story 'dum fortuna fuit' and will be just as pleased with 'corpus delicti'. Timeframe-wise, we're pretty early in the STARS career. You see, Joseph Frost is still in Bravo and there is no mention of Rebecca yet (there won't be in this story, but she will have her moments of glory).**

**Prepare for a tale full of surprises, mysteries and very bad weather. Jill's description of 'sweet' doesn't really fit it, but she will only find that out later...**

**Enjoy, and keep your eyes open for Chapter 2!**


	2. Chapter II

Chapter II

Barry opened his eyes and the blackness was replaced by a blinding white and a terrible smell. He realized, even before coming to his senses completely, what that smell was. Smoke. Fire. Something was burning.

He shook himself awake and winced at the pain across his chest. It must come from the seatbelt, he told himself. Then the memories came back in a flash and Barry was suddenly wide awake. His head throbbed, but he remembered clearly. And he knew that they had to get out of here quickly.

Before the car stood a tree – they were surrounded by trees, actually – but this one was special; it was half stuck _in_ the car. It was the reason for their abrupt halt. Smoke was rising from the engine in big black clouds.

Barry turned his head to look at Brad and automatically jumped to the next level of alertness. The pilot was slumped over the steering wheel, knocked out from the impact. What worried Barry more was the way the car had formed around him. The collision with the tree had deformed the driver's side. Part of it wound around Brad's lower body, so that Barry couldn't see his legs from where he sat anymore.

Quickly, unbuckling his seatbelt, Barry pushed the door open. It took two tries and a terrible creaking, but at last the door budged. He got out in a half jump and already regretted it before his feet hit the ground. For a moment the world turned, then it settled in its rightful position again.

Snow was still falling around them. He couldn't have been out for too long. He gave himself a moment to focus, then took in the situation. The tree had stopped them in the middle of a steep descent. The car had smacked into it head-on and from the way it looked like it was a total loss. Barry's gaze moved away from the wreck and to the way they had come. From here he couldn't see the road, but very well the new path they had left in their wake through the forest.

Barry turned to the back of the car. Another bang of worry hit him when he saw that the door was still closed. Moving quickly, he prepared to pull it open - when someone pushed from the inside.

Wesker stumbled out, shaky on his legs for the first few steps in the snow. He must have lost the sunglasses during the crash. Instead of them Barry saw a small cut on the Captain's brow, but it seemed harmless.

"Help me get them out!" Wesker said and turned back to the van. There was no time and – at the moment – no need for explanations. He just nodded and followed the other man, briefly taking in the situation.

The duffel bags had spilled, carpeting the floor with a layer of bullets and guns and other equipment, while the remaining members of Alpha team looked worse off than Barry himself.

Wesker moved over to free Chris from the seat, who was moaning something incoherently, while Barry turned to Jill. She was unconscious and hanging in the seatbelt. Barry couldn't see any serious injuries, but then again he was no doctor. He unfastened the belt and carried her outside, propping her up against a tree some distance away.

Chris and the Captain came out of the car and Barry went to help support the marksman.

"Drop him down there," Wesker said and nodded over to where Jill sat.

Barry nodded and Chris moaned something about pain in his head.

"Stay here, don't try to move," Wesker instructed as they put him down.

Chris brought one hand up to his head and winced as he brushed through his hair. "…nasty bump," he muttered.

Wesker turned to Barry. "Where is Vickers?"

"Still in the car. Come on." He paused, then grimaced. "I think it's bad."

And he was right. It was bad. Brad was worse off than all of them put together. His legs were trapped in the car and there was a dark spot on his pants. Wesker carefully brushed a finger across the leg. It came back with sticky blood. He wiped it off on his jacket.

"We need to pull him out," he said. "Before it explodes."

'It' being the engine, which by now smoked dangerously. Barry could feel the heat emanating from it, and he knew that it would be enough to set the thing alight if the gas or oil tank had leaked.

Brad, thankfully, was still out when Barry put his arms around him and gave Wesker a nod that he was ready. The STARS captain was trying to ease the pressure on Brad's legs by trying to lift the part that squashed the pilot.

"On three," Wesker said. "One… two… three _PULL!_"

Wesker heaved, Barry pulled, but Brad didn't move.

"We have to try again," Barry said and readjusted his grip around the pilot. Brad's head rolled from one side to the other, like that of a broken doll. More than anything else, Barry wished for him to stay unconscious until they got him out. The procedure looked more painful and he didn't want to witness what would happen if Brad had to endure it while being awake. That must feel like a walk through hell.

"It won't budge," Wesker said and demonstratively lifted again. Not even an inch. He stepped back and wiped off the trickle of blood from the cut above his eye, flinching slightly.

"You okay, sir?"

"Yes…let me try from the other side. We have to hurry." He went around the car and crawled in through the passenger's door.

"Ready?"

Barry nodded. They pulled. This time Brad moved. Only he didn't move because they managed to free him, but because he awoke with a scream in his throat. He struggled against Barry's grip and thrust harder when he felt resistance and pain.

"Easy! Brad!"

"Don't move, stay still-"

"_It fucking_ _hurts_!" Brad cried. "It's broken, _goddamn_, GET ME OUT! Get me out!"

"Barry, hold him." He tightened his grip against the trashing pilot. Wesker looked at Brad. "This will hurt." Then at Barry. "Now!"

"_No_!" Brad screamed. "No no NO! Leave me alone! Go! No, _STOP_!"

There was a grinding noise, then some wet slop and both things strangely sounded louder in Barry's ears than the high pitched scream that left Brad's lips when he pulled. The scream was short-lived though, as if someone had duct taped Brad's mouth shut. Then he was completely silent. The tension left his body and Barry realized that he must have passed out again.

Wesker did something – he couldn't see the man's movements form where he was, Brad's head was in the way – and suddenly Barry stumbled back with Brad in his hands, slipping on the snow. The air was knocked out of his lungs when he fell, Brad's weight on top of him.

Wesker was at his side in a flash, lifting the unconscious body off of him.

"Come on, we have to get him away," he said. The smoke rising from the engine was black, dangerous. It was like a silent countdown.

"Careful, take care of his leg."

The dark spot on Brad's shinbone had increased significantly. In his short time of consciousness Brad had said that it was broken. Barry didn't know if you could distinguish a flesh wound from a broken bone by pain alone, but he hoped that Brad was wrong. A broken leg in the middle of nowhere?

"Barry?"

He shook off the thought and looked at Wesker.

"Sorry. Let's do it."

They carried him to where they had positioned Chris and Jill before. The marksman had already recovered somewhat. He was kneeling by Jill's side, gently shaking her shoulder. When he saw them coming he turned his head, wincing.

"Oh my god, Brad! What happened? Wha-"

"Barry, go to the car," Wesker instructed, cutting off Chris. "Get me the first aid kit. Chris, go with him. Save what you can – it will catch fire any minute."

Both men complied immediately. Barry rushed to the passenger's side, pulled the drawer from under the seat open and got the small red box titled 'FIRST AID'. He only caught a glimpse of the engine cover when he turned back but it didn't look good.

Chris was already on the way back to Wesker, one of the duffel bags hung over his shoulder. Barry ran past him, dropped to his knees beside the Captain and opened the kit. There were bandages and sheers and some other sterile things. First aid had never been among Barry's strengths.

Wesker snatched it out of his hands, told him to hold Brad down and proceeded to cut open the pant leg. Barry grimaced when the cloth was removed from the wound. By now he doubted that it was only a flesh wound. There was blood and possibly bone and the slight hesitation in Wesker's next action was enough to make clear that it was bad.

Chris rushed past them again, on his second run to the van. He crossed half the distance, before he suddenly did a 180°-turn. It was barely fast enough to escape the first explosion. The force sent him flying to the ground anyway.

Both Barry and Wesker leant over Brad to protect him from flying debris, but luckily there was none reaching so far. Flames danced on the van and crept up the tree it had crashed into.

Wesker was already back at work. He wrapped a bandage around Brad's leg and once he was done with that, continued with the next one.

"There isn't much we can do for him at the moment," he explained. „The bone needs to be repositioned and there is no way we can give him such a treatment here. He needs professional medical attention."

"We can call for help over the radio."

Wesker checked Brad's pulse and felt his forehead, then he sat back and gazed at the burning car for a moment.

"Barry," his voice was calm. There was no trace of shock or uneasiness he must have been feeling. "What happened?"

For a second, Barry asked himself the same question. Everything had happened so quickly. There hadn't been time to process the information, there had been barely enough time to hold on to something and brace for the crash.

"We were forced off the road," he said. "At first we thought it was some kind of animal… only it wasn't." He paused and took the time to look into Wesker's eyes, that were so often concealed by the sunglasses. He always thought to find something special in there, something that needed the shades' protection, but they were only normal eyes after all.

"I think it was that guy," he said eventually. "Before Brad lost control he raised some weapon into our direction. I couldn't identify it exactly. It must have been a crossbow or the like, but definitely no gun. Then the car swerved, we slid off the road and all the way down to that tree."

And with Brad, he thought, going up again will be like mounting the Everest without equipment.

Wesker nodded, but didn't say anything. There wasn't much he could say to it, anyway. The situation hadn't been controllable and nobody was to blame on their part.

"Stay with him," Wesker said and pointed to Brad. He got to his feet slowly. "I want to see Jill and then we need to get help. Are you alright, Barry?"

He blinked, but nodded. "Yeah." The initial burning sensation from the seatbelt had passed. He guessed it would leave a bruise or more, but he could live with that.

Wesker went on his way to Jill. Barry could see that Jill was already moving before the Captain reached her. It turned out to be a minor concussion and she was on her feet in the next few minutes.

The really ill news came from Chris. As if things weren't bad enough already, Chris's discovery sent Barry's hopes plummet to sub-zero.

"The radios are gone. I'm sure I packed them. They were in the other bag. In the other bag… still in the car."

* * *

**First off the biggest THANK YOU in the world for those of you who reviewed! I didn't expect this story to start so well, but here you are, pleasatly surprising me! **

**Story-wise, I decided to make each chapter from a different character's point of view. Initially I intended to stick to one, but I figured that would be a problem with future chapters. You will see soon why.**

**And now that I've made you curious, I will end this chapter here. I hope you had a good read and enjoyed it! See you in chapter 3 next week!**


	3. Chapter III

Chapter III

"It can't be…" he muttered. But it was. Or rather wasn't. The radios were gone. He checked the bag twice and of course there was no sign of them, because they were in the other one, the one still in the car, the one that was eaten by the flames at this very moment.

Shit… what were they supposed to do without radios? He risked a glance over at Brad. They were screwed without help.

"I'll try and get them," he said and turned to the car. "Perhaps the fire didn't get to them yet. Perhaps they fell into the snow…" He knew that that chance was minimal, but right now it was the only thing they had. He took a step towards the burning wreck.

"Chris." It was Wesker. He stood beside Jill and brushed off the snow that had deposited on his shoulder. Then he shook his head. "It's too late. They're gone. We can't afford to take anymore risks. There could be another explosion at any time."

He hesitated, but nodded eventually. "Yeah."

"Where are we?" Jill said. Due to her loss of consciousness she had missed most of the action. "What… what exactly happened?"

"Somebody forced us off the road," Barry said. "Shot a tire. Brad lost control."

"Was it that guy?"

Barry nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

Chris couldn't help but peek at the trees around them. It was foolish to believe that the man was still here, but now that Jill and Barry mentioned him, Chris did feel as if someone watched them. Which was idiotic, too. And unprofessional. He had no reason to justify the feeling. They were the only ones here and apart from the blazing car in front of them, the forest was silent and unmoving, almost as if someone had taken it right out of a picture.

"What are we going to do?" he asked, finding himself look at Wesker in anticipation. Jill and Barry did too, though the latter kept glancing back at Brad.

Wesker didn't answer immediately. He regarded the steep they had – unwillingly – descended, then briefly eyed up each of them and in the end his gaze reached the car.

"We can't go the way back up we came from," he said eventually. "Not with Brad. Chris, do you still have the map?"

Chris nodded and felt for it in his pocket.

"Good. I want you to find out where we are. We need to get Brad to a doctor ASAP. Depending on our location, we will continue in Bravo team's direction, or back to Raccoon. Once we find an appropriate passage, we might be able to get back onto the main road. If not, then we will savor Arklay's hiking paths; there are plenty. I've seen some marked on the map earlier."

He paused, thinking, while looking at Brad.

"We will need something to carry him on and stabilize that leg. From what I saw I assume that it's an open fracture. He won't be able to stand on it, let alone walk. Jill, Barry, see if you can build a makeshift stretcher. Chris, you'll study the map. Find a way out of here. Meanwhile, I'll do the inventory. Any questions?"

Chris shook his head, but Jill still seemed unclear about something.

"What about that guy, sir?"

"Keep your eyes open. Does everyone still have their weapons?" A collective nod. "Good. We will be on our guard. As things are, he has the advantages right now. He deprived us of our car and injured one of our men. If we're careless, we're easy prey. I expect you to behave according to the training and experience you have. He may have the tactical benefits, but he is only one against four."

He let the words sink in and they all nodded. He was right. No need to freak out about it. They were STARS, for god's sake, not some ignorant hikers. Despite, taking him down was the reason they were here, after all.

"One more thing," Wesker said and this time his voice had a ring of alertness to it. "None of you should take too lightly to that crash. We weren't prepared for it and most of us were knocked out in the impact. If there are any other injuries beside Vickers' – no matter how insignificant – I want to know about them. One member down is bad enough. Losing another because of wrongplaced pride is intolerable."

Nobody said anything. Barry was tending to Brad again and Chris only briefly caught Jill's eyes. She had been out longest, apart from the pilot. With a small smile she silently told him that she was okay and he shouldn't worry. He returned her smile, then looked back to Wesker.

"No?" the Captain asked, but then nodded approvingly. "Then let's not waste anymore time."

Chris set to work immediately, as did the others. He sat down under a tree and unfolded the map in front of him. It didn't take him long to find the road they had been driving on before. He had been studying the way earlier in the car. Raccoon City was an obvious grey spot on the left side of the map, while Bravo's camp was marked with a red circle somewhere in the middle of Arklay Mountains. The forest path connected the main road with the camp. If his calculations were right, they had to be almost in the middle, perhaps slightly closer to the Bravos.

He also found the hiking trails Wesker spoke of, but Chris's hopes faded just as quickly. There were some close to the street and others that spun around the mountain tops. There was only one in their proximity. It led deeper into the woods, drawing along the shore of a sizable lake – he didn't know the name, it wasn't marked either - but stopped long before reaching the camp. Chris sighed. Perhaps it went on, too, right up to their doorstep. He couldn't tell. Not from this map. It probably only contained the biggest trails and there could be dozens of other small ones, covering the mountains like a giant spiderweb.

Chris was no passionate hiker, nor were any of the others, as far as his knowledge went. Wesker also told him to find a way back onto the original forest road, but the map wouldn't reveal the answer to that question either. He couldn't value the state of the terrain from the simple drawing. What he knew was that they couldn't go the way back up they had come down. The incline was too steep for that. But that was nothing new. And they couldn't forget Brad. He would slow them down no matter if Jill and Barry managed to build a stretcher. There was another thing they had to consider in their plans – the weather. It was snowing. It had snowed when they had left the RPD and now he noticed that it had picked up in speed, if only slightly. Which was more than enough. It would make the way twice as hard, slow them down and make a climb more slippery and dangerous than it already was. Hadn't Brad said something about a storm earlier? Chris hoped not. It was the last thing they needed.

"Found us a way home already?"

Chris didn't have to look up to identify the owner of the voice. He would recognize Barry Burton's deep tone everywhere.

"I fear you'll miss dinner with your family," he answered, but didn't sound as cheerful as he had intended.

"Then I guess it's good that I snatched up that snack before we left."

"How's Brad?" Chris asked.

"Seen better times, too. We managed to make him a stretcher out of a blanket and two boughs. The bag you rescued from the car was the one with the things Enrico requested. Blankets, compasses…"

"Yeah, I noticed. I got the wrong one. All the ammo and the radios blew up. Great job."

"It wasn't your fault. Despite, I do prefer the blankets instead of the bullets with such a weather. How long do you reckon we will need until we get back to civilization?"

That was a good question. One that Chris had avoided answering himself, because he dreaded it.

"It's afternoon. Sun sets in an hour, perhaps two if we're lucky." He showed Barry the map. "I don't know how much we'll still see by then – the flashlights are still in the car – not to mention that I can't predict the weather."

"A night under star-lit sky?"

"I fear so…"

Wesker and Jill came up to them. Wesker had the duffel bag slung over his shoulder, but dropped it into the snow when he reached them.

Chris held out the map and explained their current position, the options they had and the approximate time he thought they would need to cover the distances.

"There is no shorter way?" Wesker inquired.

"No, sir. Not without the proper equipment and not with Brad's… handicap."

Wesker nodded. "Alright." Apparently he had made up his mind. Chris had always admired the calmness Wesker emitted in difficult situations and the easiness with which he dealt with problems. He was confident about his actions and some of that confidence also brushed off on the team.

"Jill, Barry, you'll carry Vickers. Chris, you'll lead. The shortest way seems to be to struggle through to Bravo's camp. We'll take the hiking trail you mentioned and from there try to find a way back up the forest road. Let's go."

Jill and Barry went over to take Brad. Wesker stayed with Chris, procuring a small item from the duffel bag.

"Take this," he said and handed Chris a compass.

Chris nodded, took it and compared it to the map, turning into the direction they had to go into. Barry and Jill came back, Wesker slung the bag over his shoulder and they started walking, Chris in the front. He estimated they would need an hour at most to reach the beginning of the marked hiking trail.

--

They needed two hours until Chris found the first sign on a tree, the white and red marking hidden by the snow.

"Is this is?" Jill's voice sounded from behind. She had switched positions with Wesker and now formed the taillight of their little group, carrying their equipment.

"Yeah, I think it is. We just have to follow these signs."

Which sounded easier than it was. Snowing had picked up and the sun was setting. He could barely see twenty feet ahead, let alone decipher signs on trees. The compass Wesker had given him proved to be a great help, but even with it Chris couldn't say for sure where exactly they were.

A small groan broke the momentary silence. It came from Brad, who was shielded from wind and snow by two heavy blankets. He had woken up a while ago, but after Wesker informed him of what had happened and that he should lay still Brad kept slipping in and out of consciousness. Apart from his broken leg he had apparently also hit his head in the crash. Wesker said it wasn't that bad and Chris liked to believe that without posing additional questions.

"Come on, Chris. We don't have all day. I'd like to reach the camp before my hands turn to ice," Barry said.

"No kidding. You think I'm having fun brushing snow off the trees without gloves? I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying."

And hurting, too. Ten trees later his fingers took on a faint blue and pained at every touch. He froze from head to toe – especially the toes, his boots were wet and it already went through to the socks – but Chris knew that none of the other fared any better.

Jill had turned so pale, he could barely distinguish her from the background. The snow had colored Wesker's hair white and settled in Barry's beard.

Suddenly Chris stopped again and sighed.

"Guys, this is useless." He turned around, shrugging his shoulders. "I can't see a thing anymore and it's snowing so hard I don't even know where we're heading."

"What are you suggesting?" Jill asked, stepping forward. She dropped the bag. Even from the distance he could see how she was shivering. Even from the few words she had said he could tell that her mood had sunken even lower than the temperature.

"It's more than eight hours until the sun comes out again!" she said, „We have no shelter, we're unprotected from the snow and Brad broke his leg. We don't even have enough blankets for us all and if we can trust the newspapers a _storm_ is coming up! You want to spend the night outside during a snowstorm?"

"I…" At first he didn't know what to say. Jill's behavior didn't make any sense! "What do you want, Jill?"

"Sorry to shatter your illusions, but I there's no hotel here we could spend the night at, or even a goddamn cave! If we decide to stay here, we're going to stay right _here_ and freeze our fucking asses off! I'm for walking."

"I'm for finding shelter. Carrying Brad through the storm? He's already got a broken leg, he doesn't need an additional pneumonia!"

"He needs a _doctor_. We won't find one in the wilderness."

"A doctor will be useless if he's frozen to death."

"Children…," Barry began.

"No, Barry!" Chris said, but glared at Jill. "She's talking nonsense. We keep walking now, we end up god knows where tomorrow! I can barely see the direction on the compass. We don't even have flashlights. What if that guy shows up? We couldn't even make out his position!"

Jill crossed her arms. "Oh, and if we stay right here, we're prepared for any possible attacks, yes?"

"Enough of this." It was Wesker who cut them off this time. His words had far more impact than Barry's – they both fell silent.

"What are you, STARS or civilians?" Wesker asked in a sharp voice. "Your behavior is a shame to the team."

Chris could feel Wesker's glare without even looking at the man. The definite tone in his voice also indicated that it might be better not to meet his gaze at the moment.

"We don't have time for this," Wesker said. "Chris, take the map and search for a nearby place where we can camp for the night-"

"But…," Jill interrupted.

"No objections, Valentine. Once we reach that point, you take the first watch. I don't want to hear further discussions on this topic. From none of you. Let's go."

**

* * *

**

Hm, okay, so I lied. The action picks up only in the next chapter. Our favourite psycho hunter got a bit distracted by the snow. -looks over and sees him build STARS snowmen (and women)- Uhh, yeah... But don't worry! There are plenty of ways to keep our favorite team busy! -evil chuckle-

**See you next update!**


	4. Chapter IV

Chapter IV

"What's the guy's name actually? We never got around to that detailed briefing," Chris said. He was struggling to start a fire with his lighter, which until now had been unsuccessful. Wesker doubted that that would change. The twigs were wet and in the snowstorm not even Chris's cigarette had wanted to be lit.

"Clive Havel. No wife, no kids. He lived in a cabin by himself before the crimes started," he said.

"No wonder he's gone crazy," Jill remarked. "All alone in the wilderness."

"He took over his father's business as skinner when he was fairly young. I don't remember the exact age. I only skimmed over the report Marini sent me briefly before we left."

"Anything else that could be of importance?" Jill asked.

"No," he said. "He is an excellent sharpshooter and hunter. But he already proved that to us."

Chris suddenly turned around with a triumphant grin on his lips. "Get out the marshmallows, guys. We have fire!"

The 'fire' was a small twig that drew a line of smoke into the air. It stood no chance against the raving storm. Chris's smile faltered, but nobody else had put big hopes into his tries.

"Don't bother with it anymore, Chris," Wesker said. "It's of no use."

"Yeah. At least it was some distraction from the cold…"

"The sun will rise soon, won't it?" Jill asked, looking up at the sky in hope. Wesker followed her gaze for a moment, but there was no sign of the sun, or even the moon. Oddly enough, the sky reminded him of television without signal. Dark grey with many white dots.

"An hour or so, and we should be able to leave," Chris said. "We've got a lot of walking to do today."

"Would you hand me the map for a moment? I want to look at something…" Jill said.

Wesker had already turned away by then. He went to check on Brad, whom they had lain under a fallen tree. The trunk bent about five feet off the ground, and the branches that were still attached to it provided some protection against the snow. The only problem with it was that the sheltered space barely fit two persons.

Kneeling beside the stretcher Wesker put his the back of his hand on Brad's forehead, feeling for fever. The skin was definitely warmer than it should be, especially in this cold weather. Wesker's own fingers were freezing. He barely felt them anymore. But there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

Instead, he raised the blankets off the pilot's leg. The bleeding had thankfully stopped hours ago and since Brad didn't move the leg, it only encouraged the healing process. Once the bone was professionally reset, that was.

Beside Brad lay Barry, curled up with an arm as makeshift pillow under his head. He had been responsible for the last watch – the one where the storm had been worst – and had retreated for some rest after that. Barry hadn't been able to fit his legs under the tree completely, so that they were covered by a blanked of snow by now.

Wesker turned his head to see Chris and Jill still debating over the map and decided that he could just as well sit down here and wait. Unconsciously he palpated the cut on his forehead. The area around it hurt when he touched it, but otherwise Wesker thought he'd had an incredible luck in the crash. He could have broken bones, or God forbid, his neck, but he'd gotten away with a laceration above his eye and four hours of headache. Not bad, considering he hadn't worn his seatbelt at that time.

Outside the sheltered place Chris and Jill exchanged another look at the map, before Jill pointed her finger on something and made a circle around it. Chris nodded in agreement, then they folded up the map again and Jill put it her pocket.

Chris tried to light his cigarette a last time. It didn't work. He put it back into the box and both came over, out of the snow.

--

An hour later, they were on their way again. Jill took the lead this time, She compared the compass with the map and set out in what Wesker thought was an eastern direction. Chris and Barry carried Brad, who had woken up recently. Apart from saying that it was too warm – a possible sign of fever? – he had kept silent though. Wesker took care of the duffel bag again. At least it kept the snow away from his back.

"I'm sure this shortcut will pay off," Jill remarked.

Chris only 'hmpf'ed from behind and Wesker guessed that this was what they had been talking about earlier.

Ahead of them – Wesker barely recognized it through the snow – the path they walked on forked. One way continued in a straight line and one climbed the hill, which they had involuntarily descended earlier.

"This will get us back on track," Jill told them. „ Onto the main road,"

She walked up to the tree that stood between the two ways. She brushed off the snow and there were two signs. The red-white-red one they had been following so far (it reminded Wesker of Umbrella; he didn't like it) and another one, red-yellow-red. Under the latter someone had drawn an arrow pointing to the left trail; the one that went up the mountain.

"It's a short cut," Jill said, proudly.

"No, it's longer. At least an hour longer," Chris objected.

"It gets us up the main road."

"But not to Bravo's camp. It's a detour."

Jill crossed her arms. "They won't be able to search the whole forest for us! It's better to keep to the big roads."

Chris didn't say anything to that. Which was good, because Wesker wasn't in the mood to snap at the two again and Barry seemed to go by the 'let-the-kids-sort-it-out' theory today.

They commenced walking again and ten minutes later he wasn't quite so sure anymore whether Jill's 'short cut' was such a good idea after all. Even though the way wasn't very steep, they progressed only slowly. Beneath the snow – by now it was as high as the top of his combat boots – were leaves the autumn wind had blown out of the trees.

He counted Jill skid three times and behind him Chris cursed twice. Even Barry was close to the ground once. Wesker didn't fare much better.

"Great short cut," Chris said.

"Shut up."

"What? This is my honest opinion. Want me to lie? I'm sure the other way would have been easier. And _shorter_."

"It'll get better once we reach the top," Jill assured.

"_If_ we reach it."

"Chris, ple--"

She stopped in the middle of the sentence, her head swerving up the mountain. They all did. Someone had shot.

Automatically Jill and Wesker drew their own weapons, Barry and Chris following suit after they put down the stretcher.

"Havel," Barry said. It was only a whisper, almost swallowed by the icy wind. The snowy wind. Wesker tried to identify the direction the shot had come from, but he could barely make out Chris through the storm and Chris was standing almost next to him.

There was a second shot.

This time, someone screamed. It was Jill. She let out a yelp of surprise as a bullet buried itself in the snow beside her. She leapt to the side in shock and lost her footing in the progress – later she told him that she slipped on the leaves under the snow.

Wesker felt her bump against him and for a second was torn between returning fire and fighting for his own balance. Jill relieved him of that choice. Her hands gripped into his jacket for hold and by tugging she swept them both off their feet.

And off the trail.

He was only aware of the fact that he was going down very quickly. He managed to cover his head with his arms for protection, but 'safety' is a very relative term when you're rolling down a steep.

It ended very quickly. Abruptly. There was a sharp pain in his side as he collided with something hard – a tree – that slowed down his speed considerably. He rolled another few feet, before getting on all fours and gasping for air. His entire right side burned as if it were on fire and the tumble had knocked the air out of his lungs.

Wesker kept his gaze on the snow until the world stopped spinning, faintly hearing the sounds of gunshots from above. Slowly, he let himself sink into a sitting position and inhaled deeply. It ached horribly and he hoped that it wasn't what he thought it was.

Finally, he let his gaze sweep over his surroundings. Jill lay on her back not far away, and from the looks of it, she was struggling with the twisting world too.

"Oh god…" she croaked. "Oh god, oh god," and then, when realization kicked in and she looked up at him terrified, "_Oh god_, I'm sorry! Sir! Sir, are you alright?"

He gave a weak nod, but didn't return the question. Instead he craned his neck to look at where they came from – and froze.

Jill voiced his thoughts appropriately: "Oh my god…"

They'd come down quite a bit. In fact, he would say that they had come down the entire two-hour hike in less than two minutes. From here, he couldn't even see Chris or Barry. What troubled him was that he could hear them shooting. And if they continued like that, they'd empty their magazines very quickly.

"We need to help them," Jill said.

"Not from down here." He winced. Speaking, as he found out, hurt.

She noticed it. "Sir?"

"I'm alright. I had a rather abrupt halt."

"Sir, I'm… I'm sorry about…"

He shook his head. "It wasn't your fault. Are you hurt?"

"No… I don't think so."

He nodded, then focused on the sounds again. The shooting had stopped. Which could be good. Or very bad.

"Do you still have your gun?" he asked and checked for his. It wasn't in the holster. He detected it beside the tree that was responsible for his aching side.

"I have it," Jill confirmed. "It's still fully loaded."

"Good." He ejected the clip, counted the bullets. "Mine too. Do you know where we are, exactly? You had the map."

Jill searched her pockets and made her found. She grimaced as she unfolded it. The paper had soaked full of water, either during their slide down the hill, or the trip before and ripped at one of the folds.

He kept looking up at the trees and the way they had unwillingly descended. Chris and Barry hadn't recommenced shooting. Did they get Havel? He refused to think the other way around. They were experienced officers after all. They should have been able to deal with Havel alone._ But then again,_ his mind suggested, _Bravo hasn't been able to deal with him, either._

"We should be here." Jill said. "I don't know exactly how far we came down again, but we can pretty much limit it to this area. The others-" she pointed to another part of the map "-are there."

"Our options?"

"We can backtrack, of course. Not directly, though." She glanced at the hill. "It's too steep. We can take this way back and will reach the forking from earlier. Then we can start to ascend again."

He grimaced. They would need at least double the time if they did it like that. Even with Brad slowing them down, Chris and Barry would be long gone by then. "And the alternatives?" he asked.

"Chris's way. He suggested that we follow this path here – the red-white-red one as opposed to the red-yellow-red one we eventually decided for. It'll lead us along the shore of the lake and then hopefully into Bravo camp's direction."

"This way goes straight through the mountains."

"Yes."

"Havel knows the territory like the back of his hand. There is no doubt that he'll strike again."

"He might."

"And you're certain that this is the shortest way?"

"Yes, sir. The shortest marked on the map."

He took a deep breath, ignoring the twinge in his side.

"Let's go, then."


	5. Chapter V

Chapter V

They were lost. There had been no sign for hours now, no matter how many trees they checked. Walking ahead of her, Captain Wesker had stopped looking for the red-white-red markings a while ago. Whether out of desperation or confidence, Jill didn't know. She hoped it was the later though. He had taken the lead shortly after Jill had officially announced them lost, and kept walking with a determination she could only hope was well-reasoned.

The storm had picked up again, too. Although she was walking only a few feet behind him, she could barely recognize his silhouette, the only distinctive mark being the dark brown duffel bag on his shoulders.

They hadn't heard anything again, neither from Chris and Barry, nor from Havel. Jill dearly wished that this meant that one of Chris' and Barry's shots had hit the hunter, but the pessimist part of her – it grew in persuasiveness with every minute – insisted that it was the other way around. She had asked Captain Wesker what he thought about it, and of course he gave her the right answer. They were alive. What else could he say, anyway? Their spirits were far below zero. No point in dragging them down even further. If the worst case scenario had occurred, there was nothing they could do about it.

Wesker told her to keep an eye on their surroundings, stay on guard and hope that Chris was right about this way being shorter. That summed up most of their conversation. Wind and snow were too hard and they had to focus on walking more than on talking.

Suddenly Wesker stopped and Jill nearly bumped into him. Curiously she glanced over his shoulder, then stepped up beside him wholly.

"Wow," was all she could say. He just nodded in agreement.

"Quite impressive."

They had reached the edge of the treeline. Ahead of them, a plane of white stretched out, like a massive snow covered road, or rather, a snow desert.

Jill knew better. "It's the lake."

And it was _big_. She couldn't even see the right end, the white stretch reaching out of her sight. The left end didn't look much better. Here, Jill could see the top of trees – at least she thought that; it was hard to tell with all the white in between – but couldn't quite appraise how much time they would need to walk around it, to the other side. Two hours, perhaps? Was there even a marked way? Obviously, they had come off the red-white-red one. That one shouldn't have led them here at all.

"Do you have the map?" Captain Wesker asked.

Jill pulled it out from one of her pockets. It was wet and tore when she unfolded it. Luckily, they didn't need that part; she tucked the torn piece back into her pocket. Jill presented the map to Wesker, who took it from her and walked back to the treeline. He dropped the duffelbag beside a trunk and studied the map. Jill went over to him. The tree provided a bit of shelter from the snow. Not that it mattered much anymore. She couldn't say for Wesker, but Jill was wet and freezing. Judging by the pale color on the Captain's face, he couldn't fare much better, though.

"Bravo's camp is somewhere on the other side."

She'd feared that much.

"We need to get to the other side."

She nodded. "Yeah."

He looked up, his eyes locking with hers for a moment. The blue of his irises reminded her of the sky. The _cloudless_ sky.

"We have two options," he said, then elaborated. "Option number one, we walk around it." He drew his finger along the shore of the map-lake. "Option number two –" now he pointed a straight line from their position. "The direct way."

"Across the lake?"

"Across the lake. That's option number two."

"It's shorter."

"And holds dangers."

"It could give us protection from Havel, if he's still alive. I don't think he would follow us there."

"And if he does?"

She realized the error in her thought. "Then we have no cover…"

"Correct. However, if we round the lake, we lose precious time and gain no tactical advantage over Havel. We stay unwanted guests in his territory."

"So both options are equally bad."

"Both have pros and cons."

Jill looked at the map, but it was only a gesture so that she could avoid Wesker's gaze. She had to think her next words through exactly. In the end he would fell the decision of course, but her own opinion would be crucial. It could decide over their fate.

The long way, or the short one? Direct exposure to the snow, or shelter by the trees? Havel, or… - no; Havel was a possible danger no matter what route they chose.

Eventually three factors made Jill decide for the direct way. One, it was cold. Horribly so. How much longer would she be able to endure the weather? Two, the snow had soaked through her clothes. That only added to the coldness. And three, a few hours ago her stomach had started to audibly protest against the bad conditions. Thirst could be stilled, but the hunger only grew in intensity.

"I think we should go across it," she eventually said.

"And hazard the consequences and dangers bound to it?"

She wondered whether he would have asked the question if she had favored the other way.

Resolutely Jill said, "Yes."

Wesker nodded slightly. He folded the map back up – it was really dripping wet, she noticed – and handed it back to her. Then he glanced out at the lake.

For a moment Jill was sure that he would take the longer way. But he said:

"It will save us at least an hour. But we have to be careful."

She nodded, feeling a relief she didn't show. "Havel… and of course the water."

"I don't think the water will cause us much of a problem. At this temperature it should be firm enough to walk across it without problems."

He didn't comment on Havel, so she figured that that still remained a potential danger. Instead of saying anything else, Wesker readjusted the bag on his shoulder (she had volunteered to carry it earlier, but he had declined) and started walking.

Jill followed, first behind him and when they reached the shore again, stopped beside him. Tentatively she put one foot on the frozen water, then slowly shifted her weight onto it. The ice didn't break. She stepped on it completely. It seemed safe.

Wesker regarded her tries for another moment, then joined her on the frozen surface. He brushed some of the snow away with his boot, looked at the ice beneath and then back up at her.

"Careful. Try not to walk too close to me. We shouldn't force our luck."

Jill agreed and so they set out, Wesker walking up front and Jill with some distance behind him. She pulled up the scarf to cover her mouth and nose, but without the protection from the trees, the snow bit mercilessly into her face.

She kept her eyes fixed on the duffel bag on Wesker's shoulder, sometimes wandering down to see where she stepped.

The entire lake was overdrawn with a white carpet, reaching up to her ankles. She risked a glance behind, but couldn't see the shore anymore. Two pairs of footsteps were the only trail they left, and already they began to fill with snow.

If Havel hadn't been watching them from the start, she didn't think that he could follow them now. He couldn't see them through the storm, and if the snow covered their tracks, so much the better.

The downside of it all was of course that they could get just as lost. Though Jill had the basic shape of the lake in mind, she was unable to see the other side from here. Did Wesker even go into the right direction? It was like trying to cross a snow desert. And as far as Jill knew, people who lost orientation always walked in circles in the desert. The absurd thought suddenly scared her. They could die just because they couldn't find the shore. It would be a horrible death.

Jill tried to concentrate on something else. On the duffel bag. She tried to memorize its contents. The kevlar vests (hardly helpful against the weather), one blanket (tempting, but they would only get it wet. Better keep it for dire situations). Was that all? No… there was something else, but for the life of her she couldn't remember, even though she had been the one organizing the stuff Enrico had requested.

The wind changed direction and whipped the snow directly into her face. She pulled the scarf up and stopped for a moment, turning her head away. The part of her skin that was exposed prickled painfully. She glanced back to where they came from, but there was nothing new to be seen. Only the two of them in an endless white scenery.

When she turned back around, Wesker was nearly out of sight. He had stopped at the edge of her vision, about to be swallowed by the storm. She saw the end of a gesture – probably to keep on walking - and set off again.

But apparently that was not what he had wanted to tell her. She saw his lips move, but the wind was too loud to understand anything other than her name. He raised his hand again, and this time it clearly meant 'Stop.'

Jill stopped. She placed one hand on her gun. Was Havel here? Wesker took one step forward, having realized that she couldn't understand him. He regarded the ground beneath his feet with concern for a moment, then repeated the cautioning gesture.

She looked down. Instantly, every fiber in her body froze into place. Even breathing seemed dangerous. Around her boots, water had formed. It soaked the snow and was spreading rapidly.

_But that can't be_, she told herself, _the ice should be thick enough! How could it crack all of a sudden?_

"Jill…" Wesker's voice. She looked up, mortified. He had managed another few steps. Without the sunglasses, she could clearly see the alertness plastered on his features. It made her even more alarmed. Captain Wesker thrown out of his usual calmness? That couldn't mean anything good.

"Don't move." Though his eyes gave him away, his voice was composed as always.

He made another step towards her. Jill couldn't hear the crack, but she felt it. The moment he placed more weight on the ice, she sunk in, even if just a few millimeters.

"Stop! Stop… don't come nearer... it'll break!"

He nodded slowly, then backed away. "Can you go back?"

Jill shook her head. The water wouldn't stop coming. She was terrified. As if her feet were made of stone and frozen to the cracking ice.

"You need to try to go back…"

She didn't move. One wrongplaced breath and she was dead, and it wouldn't even cost Havel a bullet. The water reached up to her ankles. She could feel it in her boots now. Her toes were numb already.

"Jill, if you don't move I'm coming to get you. Get out of there."

Jill looked up in shock. No, that'd be the death of both of them! Hastily, she freed one leg from its rigor and placed it behind her. It pulled free from the pasty mass with a wet 'flop', but the hole it left was immediately replaced by more water. She did the same thing with her other leg.

Only this time, she heard the crack. She never thought that a sound could make your heart stop, but hers certainly didn't beat that moment.

She heard Wesker call something, but by that time she was already waist deep into what felt like a basin of needles, all pricking her skin. By the time her heart started to beat again – this time as if it wanted to escape her body – Jill was completely under water, sure that her lungs were going to explode.

She tried to hold on to something, but her limbs were stiff and the commands issued by her brain never reached her arms and legs.

Faintly, she was aware of something pulling at her wrist, then wrapping around her chest. The next moment she could breath again, cough, hurt.

Someone talked, but the only thing she heard was the wind and her own clattering teeth. Her whole body cramped painfully. It was even colder now.

"-Jill-"

Cold. Freezing.

"-stay with me, don't sleep-"

She hadn't even thought of that. Perhaps it would be warmer, tucked away under blankets. Sleeping sounded good.

"-_JILL_-"

Suddenly, she felt a slap against her cheek.

"-to keep awake! Jill-"

Her eyelids were heavy.

Her shoulders were shaken violently. She coughed, then returned to teeth chattering.

And then, despite all warnings, she banned the cold from her body and closed her eyes.

* * *

**Sorry for the slow update, guys. To make up for it, I gave you a nice cliffhanger. I'll try to get another chapter up this week, since this one was theoretically last week's.**


	6. Chapter VI

Chapter VI

"Goddamn! Goddamn, shit!" Chris said and gripped his head.

"Calm down. This isn't going to help us." Barry put a hand on his friend's shoulder, but Chris jerked away, pacing the little path while looking at the steep in frightful terror.

"We need to go after them, Barry… I can't see them from here, what if something happened? What if they're injured and that fucker hunts them down?"

"Easy, keep your cool, man," Barry advised. How he could remain so composed after what had happened was a mystery to Chris. "If we don't think this through now," Barry said. "We run the risk of having our brains laid out across the snow."

That comment was like a slap back to reality. Slowly he nodded, taking a deep breath before tearing his gaze from the descent and focusing on Barry. If not for the older man, he would have ran down at once, directly into Havel's open arms.

"We don't know what happened to Captain Wesker and Jill," Barry admitted. "But what we do know is that this way leads up to the main road, that Brad needs a doctor ASAP and panic is a thing we should avoid at the moment. We don't have to encourage this madman any further."

"So you're suggesting we abandon half of our team?"

Barry was silent, but then he nodded gravely. "We're in no condition to start a search and rescue mission, Chris. We have Brad as a burden, the storm as an obstacle and a lack of ammo should we encounter any hostile activities."

"What if they're wounded?"

"They're STARS, Chris. They're trained for something like this. And as you say yourself, what if they're wounded? What can we possibly do then? We need both of our hands to carry Brad, we can't possibly bear two more persons. We would have to camp wherever they are – if we find them at all – and what better target is there to give Havel than that? We would all end up dead, one way or another. What we need to do is get back on the main road, fight through to Bravo's camp and request their assistance. They have all the equipment, guns and cars."

Chris didn't answer, keeping his gaze locked on his wet boots. Barry was right of course, no matter how hard it was to accept. In whatever state Wesker and Jill were in, there was nothing he and Barry could do about it. Besides, he consoled himself, they had the remaining bag. It still held one blanket, the second compass and what was left of the first aid kit. And anyway, they were talking about Wesker and Jill here. Captain Wesker, who rarely lost his cool and always had the situation under control and Jill Valentine, hardass of Alpha team. If anyone could make it, then them.

"Okay," he said eventually and nodded, an affirmation to both Barry and himself. "You're right."

The older man smiled, wiping the snow out of his beard. "Good. Weapon stats. I've got two bullets. My spare clip was in the car."

"I'm empty on this one. But I got my lucky round. I hope I don't have to use it." The lucky round, as he called it, was single bullet he always carried in his vest. It was one of the few pleasant memories from Air Force he could still hang on to, and he'd hate to waste it on Havel.

Barry nodded, then motioned to Brad's unconscious form. They picked him up, Barry in the front and Chris in the back. He allowed himself a last glance over the edge, but there was no sign of his comrades. It didn't come as a surprise, but Chris still felt a lump of disappointment in his stomach.

"We should hurry," Barry said. "Before the storm picks up."

That was nicely put. Even though his friend was walking in front of him it was hard to read his features. The snow fell at a terrific pace, making the climb hell. And as often as Chris glanced at their surroundings, scanning every tree, he couldn't shake off the feeling that Havel was there, somewhere, watching them like a predator its prey – only waiting for the right moment to strike.

They needed another hour until the scenario around them changed and by that time Chris was panting heavily, covered in a thin layer of sweat despite the icy wind blowing through the forest. The last ten minutes had been the worst of the entire trip, in his opinion. He had slipped on the snow over and over and Brad's weight had become heavy on his arms. Not least because the pilot had obtained some form of semi-consciousness. He was delirious and winding on the makeshift stretcher, mumbling words that the wind swallowed in its wake and crying out whenever one of them slipped. Neither Barry nor Chris had attempted to talk to him, too focused on the way.

When they emerged out of the dense forest, Chris breathed out in relief. They had reached the main road. Barry half turned to him, gesturing to put Brad down. They laid him under a tree, at least partly covering him from the snow.

"We made it," Barry announced eventually. "We can't be far from the camp now."

Chris nodded, but was secretly thinking about Jill and their morning dispute as to which way would be better. He'd give everything to be able and tell her that she was right, after all. It let the worry for their lost teammates resurface and Chris found himself wondering how they might be faring at the moment, whether Havel's silence meant that he was after them.

He shook his head, emerging the cigarette pack from his jacket. It was damp with water and upon closer inspection he doubted that he would be able to light one. He tucked the pack back into his pocket.

"I hope they're alright," he said, feeling the need to voice it out loud.

"They're holding up. I wouldn't be surprised if they got to the camp faster than us. They have the map, Chris, and they have the supplies. They're well cared for."

Chris left it at that, looking instead at Brad. He was out cold again and part of Chris was glad for that, despite knowing that it couldn't mean anything good for the pilot's condition.

"We should get going," he suggested. "I'm freezing." Shivering demonstratively, he grabbed his end of Brad's stretcher, lifting it up. The exerting hike had warmed him, but now, as good as the break had been, the wind whipped mercifully at them, urging them forward.

They walked in silence, realizing soon that communication was only limitedly possible. Chris concentrated on the road and the trees looming at either side of it. He secretly hoped that a car would pass them by, but from the way the road looked like – their footsteps were the only trail on it – that wasn't going to happen soon. And there was always the danger of Havel suddenly leaping from the white haze. Chris' lucky round was in the barrel, but while he usually prided himself with his marksmanship skills, he didn't know whether he was good enough to take the criminal down in one go.

"…thirsty…"

Chris looked up at the word. Brad had woken up again, his lower lips trembling slightly as he stared off into nothingness, blinking every so often as a snowflake hit his eye.

"We'll get you something to drink soon, Brad. Hold in there, pal…"

He wasn't sure whether his words had reached the pilot or not, but Brad closed his eyes again soon after.

It was then that Barry jerked to the side in front of him, bringing the stretcher out of balance. Chris stumbled, but managed to hold his ground.

"Barry, what the fuck-"

He didn't get farther. Barry was holding to the stretcher with one hand only, trying to balance the thing. With his other he had raised his weapon, pointing to the side of the road, up into the trees. Only then did Chris see why.

Inches beside Barry's boot an arrow – crossbow? – had impaled itself into the frozen ground. Chris almost let go of Brad, reaching for his own gun with numb fingers.

"He's here!" Barry yelled, risking a sideways glance at Chris. "We need to get Brad away!"

Chris had rather wanted to put his unconscious teammate down so they could concentrate on the fight, but that would have been foolish. He scolded himself for such a thought. That arrow could very well have found its mark in Brad and helpless as he was in this state, the pilot depended entirely on them. Havel would show no mercy in that regard, Chris was sure.

Another arrow struck the ground beside them, coming from the opposite side this time.

"Shit!" Chris cursed, not even knowing where to point the weapon to. "I can't see anything!"

"Let's get him out of firing range!" Barry said, already moving to the side of the road. Chris could only agree to that suggestion, but where the hell was firing range?! Their enemy had remained unspotted until now and already attacked them from two directions. They could very well place Brad right under Havel's nose.

Reaching the treeline, Chris was about to let go of the stretcher when something collided with him from above, sending him sprawling to the ground, the weapon kicked out of his hand. He heard Barry's warning cries as well as felt the reason they were uttered for.

There was a sharp pain to his nose before he could even adjust to his new position and with horror Chris realized that Havel was above him, punching the butt of his own gun into his face. Instinctively gripping for the knife at his vest, he took another blow, growling in pain. When his hand closed around the knife's hilt, Chris pulled it out aiming directly for the man above him.

His try was deflected in whatever way, Havel's face lighting up in a shrill laughter before he hit Chris again, this time targeting his Adam's apple. Chris coughed as the muzzle of the gun connected with his throat, lashing out at the man again. This time it hit home, because Havel jerked, let out a yelp of pain as he staggered off of the marksman.

"Fools!" he screamed, getting to his feet, Chris' gun in his hand aimed at its rightful owner. Chris was about to get up, to roll out of the way, as three things happened simultaneously.

Barry yelled, "Watch out!" and two shots left their respective weapons.

Chris rolled over to his right, clumps of snow hitting his face as a bullet embedded itself beside his ear. There was a short, high scream that overpowered the howling wind for a second, but it was cut off just as fast.

A moment later Barry was kneeling at his side, hoisting him up in a sitting position.

"Chris! Shit, that fucker! Did he break your nose?" Barry inquired from beside him, but Chris was still too taken aback by the entire situation to answer immediately.

"I…" he brought his hand up to his nose, wincing as it came back sticky with blood. "Shit…" but then the internal alarms set off. "Where is he?"

Barry helped him to his feet. "He's off. Got him in the arm, near the shoulder, just before he pulled the trigger. You're okay, right?"

Chris nodded slowly, wiping the excess blood away with the sleeve of his jacket as he observed the spot in the ground the bullet had penetrated. "Didn't call that my lucky round for nothing, huh?"

He was given back his gun and knife, then Barry scrutinized him a last time. "You keeping up?"

"Yeah… I'm fine. Where did that freak go off to?"

Barry shrugged, pointing to the line of trees. There were splotches of blood in the snow.

"Should we follow him?" Chris asked.

"No. Negative. We're out of ammo, you and Brad are injured-"

"I'm okay."

"We've taken enough risks already, Chris. We can't be very far from the camp anymore and Havel should be busy tending to his wound for a while. Let's not waste that little time we're given."

Chris nodded reluctantly, willing the anger directed at the hunter to ebb away. Right now he was capable of taking up pursuit with just a knife if it meant bringing that madman to justice. But Barry was right, as he always was, so in the end they took up Brad's stretcher and started walking down the road again.

Not five minutes passed when the silence was broken. The two hurried to the side, taking cover behind some bushes. The headlights of a car beamed through the heavy snowfall and Chris glanced at Barry tentatively, trying to read the man's expression. Whoever was heading in their direction could either be friendly or hostile, and in case of the second option, Chris didn't want to be caught off guard again.

They waited until the car approached and when it was finally close enough to make out details through the snow a grin settled on his lips and he left their cover, standing in the middle of the road.

The car halted before him and the driver's door opened, one figure stepping out.

"Redfield! I knew you're usually late, but this beats it all!" Joseph Frost exclaimed jokingly as the rest of STARS Bravo team streamed out of the vehicle, equipped with warm blankets and dry jackets which they distributed to Barry and himself, Forest and Kevin transporting Brad to the car.

At the sight of it all another person approached them, the frown on Enrico Marini's face grave.

"What happened?" he demanded. "And where are Captain Wesker and Valentine?"

* * *

**I want to apologize for the lack of updates recently. I'm back on track now and hope to finish this story as soon as possible. I hope you still enjoy it and see you soon in Chapter 7 of corpus delicti!**


	7. Chapter VII

Chapter 7

Jill Valentine had never liked winters. She was more of a summer person, really. Comfy jeans and a t-shirt, the sun beaming down on her bare skin. She always had a tan and enjoyed the way guys would look after her when she walked down the street.

Right now Jill Valentine was walking down the road to hell and its walls were coated with thick layers of ice. She wasn't very much aware of the happenings surrounding her. Sometimes she realized how much her jaw hurt because she clenched it so tightly, but couldn't do anything to change it. She couldn't feel her fingers, or her toes. She couldn't feel her arms and legs at all. There was only a diffuse pain, unlocated, everywhere, omnipresent.

And when that pain grew too intense to bear she gradually slipped back into the icy darkness, hiding in the shadows in an attempt to escape agony. Most of the times it worked.

Now, it didn't.

Her eyes fluttered open, painfully, the lashes clumped together by frozen water. Almost simultaneously she moaned, the sound coming from her throat as a weary gurgle. As she did so, something moved around her, but Jill was far too disorientated to make out what.

She tried to move her fingers, only to realize that she didn't know where they were. Where was she? It was dark and cold and impossible to make out anything.

Something warm brushed over her back, but she couldn't find the power to flinch at the touch.

"Jill?"

Her name. Somebody was talking to her.

"Can you hear me?"

She wanted to nod, but it was impossible. The muscles in her neck seemed to erupt into an inferno of flames. There was slight movement under her.

"It's ok. Take it easy."

The voice sounded familiar, but Jill couldn't place it. Desperately, she tried to get a grip on her thoughts, order them, remember. A picture of her and Chris drinking hot, steaming coffee flashed up, then another. Helping Brad out with crosswords. Catching up on the latest gossip with Barry's wife – BOOM BOOM – rolling down the hill, abrupt stop, snow, red white yellow red and then there was water all around her, intoxicating freezing.

Her eyes wide open Jill shot up, muscles involuntarily flexing and cramping, drawing another moan from her lips. Instantly, a strong hand pressed her back down. Her head fell against something cottony.

"Take it easy," the voice instructed again, gently but authoritative all the same. Jill closed her eyes. It was Captain Wesker's voice all along.

The memories started to return, slowly and confusingly. Havel was the man they hunted down, or was Havel the man that hunted them? They had been separated, she remembered as much. Chris, Barry and Brad had gone red-yellow-red and her and Captain Wesker red-white-red. It was the longer way, but it should lead up directly to Bravo's team. At least that's what Chris had said.

She tried to scrunch up her nose, open her mouth. Everything was numb and Jill was afraid not to bite her tongue. Eventually she dared to speak, the lone word slurred like the whirr of a snake.

"…wh…aat…?"

Wesker spoke slowly, and Jill realized that the thing she felt on her back must be his hand. It was warm.

"We were fleeing from Havel," Wesker said and she thought that she could feel his breath on her skin. "We crossed the lake, but the ice was too thin. It cracked under you, and you fell. I pulled you out as quickly as I could but by the time I managed, you had lost consciousness…"

She tried to nod, to let him know that she was listening, but somehow his comment about unconsciousness made her eyelids heavier.

By the time her inner dispute was cleared and she listened to Wesker again, he had already moved on. "I found this small cavern. To shield us from the storm. It's almost over, the storm."

That was good, Jill thought, that the storm was over, and hugged herself tighter. With a final, raspy sigh she closed her eyes completely, hoping that Captain Wesker wouldn't mind continuing the story later. It was enthralling, but she couldn't keep her concentration together. If only there would be a hot, steaming cup of coffee, like the ones she used to drink with Chris.

--

When Jill woke up again it was accompanied by heavy trembling, almost cramping and her teeth instantly began to clatter with a fierce speed. This time, she was fully aware of her surroundings, of the pain that shot through her body like arrows put on fire.

Wherever she was, it was dark. Pitch black and silent, apart from the cruel wind that could be heard whipping at the trees and any unfortunate persons outside. At the thought, Jill shuddered. A piercing pain snaked through her limbs at the movement and a curious sound emitted from her lips, a mix of a moan and yelp.

At the sound, something shifted. Some warmth and weight was lifted from across her chest and with confused terror Jill realized that she was sitting upright, held in place by two strong arms. Her first thought was: He's got me – game over – that's it! but the following words slowed her heartbeat to normal pace.

"You're awake," a voice dully noted and with relief she recognized some familiarity in it. It was not Havel's voice, or that of any other criminal. It was Wesker's voice and exhaustedly Jill let her body slump back into place; against something that was softer than the crude stone walls of the cave, and certainly warmer.

She tilted her head, first left then right, and grimaced. Every movement hurt, burned, like a thousand needles were plunged into her skin simultaneously.

"Take it easy," Captain Wesker cautioned and his body moved under hers. The change in position allowed Jill to see the outlines of his face in the darkness. He was sitting against the cave wall and she was sitting in his lap, held up by his arms. The realization made her feel very uncomfortable, the situation seeming unfitting. Her cheeks flushed involuntarily and she hoped he didn't notice in the darkness.

"Can you feel your arms?" Wesker questioned instead, giving her some space by letting his own hands drop to the ground. The warmth they provided faded instantly and Jill shuddered. She tried to follow his request and flexed her limbs, wincing loudly.

"… they hurt…" she said and was surprised how small her voice was.

Wesker just nodded in the darkness. "And your legs?"

That was an entirely different matter, Jill soon found out. She wanted to bring up her legs to curl up even more, but even after several tries all she got was a few inches of movement and an inferno of pain. Frustrated, she stopped her attempts.

Be it that her expression was visible in the darkness, or Wesker simply sought to calm her, he said, "It's ok. You've been through a lot. We'll be home soon."

She couldn't part his optimism, instead feeling hot tears at the corner of her eyes. She could barely feel her fingers, coordinated movement impossible. While brushing the numb hand over her body, Jill noticed the blanket wrapped tightly around her lower body, and most importantly, the absence of wet, cold clothes sticking to her frozen body.

Running a hand over her torso, she realized two things. The thick jacket she was wearing was dry, and her hand was wrapped up somehow, as if tucked into a mitten. She brought it closer to her eyes. It was wrapped up in bandages, her fingers together. It explained why she couldn't move them.

Her hand was suddenly enclosed by another, bigger one, Wesker's and gently tucked into the pockets of her jacket again.

"You sustained a few notable frostbites," he explained, moving slightly. The position he sat in could hardly be comfortable. "I managed to patch them up well enough for the night. We should be near the camp. Now that you're awake, it's only a matter of hours."

She wanted to tell him that she couldn't walk, wasn't feeling her legs well enough to give them commands, but another thing was on her mind, that strangely seemed more important.

"Why… is it dry?"

There was no immediate answer. Perhaps he didn't understand what she meant. She hadn't been very elaborative.

"The jacket?" he asked and she nodded slowly. He leant back against the wall, wrapping his arms around her again. She didn't feel awkward. It had nothing romantic or sexually attractive to it, nothing to be ashamed or shy about. It was plain survival, sharing body heat to last the night.

"You were soaking wet when I pulled you from the lake," he explained. "Your temperature was sinking rapidly. I gave you my jacket."

The words bore an unsettling realization. If he'd given her his jacket that meant he'd discarded hers. Her jumper too? Her shirt? It was an absurd fear, that he's seen her naked or semi-naked, and although he had undoubtedly saved her life by removing her wet clothes, it made Jill very uncomfortable in the place she sat.

She avoided looking up at his face, even if the darkness would mask his eyes anyway. There was a lump in her stomach and she felt sick and her head pounded matching the rhythm of her pulse. She had the impulse of telling him to take his hands off of her, to keep some distance and mind her fucking personal space, but she knew that if she valued wrongplaced pride and stupidity over her body's needs to stay warm, neither of them would last the night.

"It will be dawn soon," Wesker noted, thankfully changing the topic. "The storm ceases. We can't be far from the camp now."

--

Wesker proved to be right in terms of weather. The storm was gone, leaving behind a lot of snow that shone brightly in the resurfaced sun. Jill had never been so happy to see the sun. After their conversation she had slipped back into a dreamless sleep, until Wesker had woken her again; at dawn.

The feeling in her limbs had painfully started to return, but not as much as that Jill was able to move on her own. Captain Wesker silently helped her back into her frozen combat pants and boots – he'd undressed her to her underwear and wrapped her up in his dry jacket and the thick blanket from the equipment bag – and although Jill had never felt so embarrassed and helpless in her life, she was thankful for his actions and more so, his silence. He wasn't making a big deal out of it and that was a good thing.

The pants felt icy on her legs, but they had become so frozen during the night that they had lost the effect of being actually wet. Her boots were hard as stone – or ice – and because Wesker had wrapped her feet up in bandages, the same way as her hands – she barely fit into them. Every movement felt like a knife being stuck in her sole. Jill clenched her teeth and limited herself to wincing and occasional moans.

After the painful procedure Wesker helped her up to her legs, supporting, as first her legs betrayed her, buckling dangerously under her. The feeling that shot up to her brain could be compared to someone impaling her and despite herself, she clutched tighter to him.

They stood that way for a few minutes until Jill eventually nodded, letting go of him slowly. She stood in her frozen boots and probably made the most miserable sight as a police officer… which reminded her of…

"My gun…" She felt for it at her belt, but both it and the holster were gone.

Wesker lifted his jumper a little – he must have been awfully cold in just that jumper, but Jill wasn't giving away the jacket under any circumstances – to reveal a second holster, including the pistol attached to his belt.

"I took it, though there's not much use to it. It's full of water and it froze inside the barrel. You would probably blow your hand up, if you attempted to use it."

Jill simply nodded, leaving it at that.

She slipped the blanket over her shoulders while Wesker took the – almost empty – duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. He gave her a last scrutinizing look.

"Can you walk?"

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

He seemed to take that as a 'yes', because he turned around and led the way out of the cave entrance, and Jill silently thanked him for choosing a slow pace to allow her cold muscles to adjust to the new work they were given.

--

She'd lost track of time. Her watch had said goodbye to the world as soon as it had made contact with the water, making Jill wonder if the 'water proof' sign on the back was just there for decoration. She was holding up well now, in fact managing to keep warm by the constant walking.

They even managed to gain a little speed and the sun shone high in the sky, warming their exposed skin. There was no sign of Havel, either.

The only thing that troubled Jill slightly was the way Wesker stiffened from time to time, his face contorting in pain whenever he lost footing in the snow.

Eventually she took up the question. "Sir?"

He turned his face to her, expectant.

"You seemed to be in pain a minute ago…"

He just stared at her for a moment, then readjusted the bag on his shoulder with a sigh. "I might have cracked a rib."

Jill grimaced. "Do you want me to take the bag?"

"No." He shook his head. "It's alright. Keep going. We can't be far now."

In one point he was right. They weren't far. Only not far from who or what, that remained to be specified.

The crossbow arrow suddenly embedding itself beside them in the snow with a frighteningly loud _whoosh_ gave Jill a vague idea.

* * *

**It's exam time and what am I doing? Writing fanfiction, as can be seen. I am incredibly sorry for the long waiting intervals, RL's been kind of hectic lately.**

**Also, an (un)interesting tidbit on this chapter: It was originally intended to be Barry/Chris focused, but then the little voice in my head said, '_To hell with that give 'em what they want!' _We shall visit Chris and Barry and the rest of the merry crew next chapter.**


	8. Chapter VIII

Chapter VIII

"He never attacked us face to face yet," Enrico explained, setting two mugs of steaming coffee on the table. Barry gladly took one with numb fingers.

"The first time he kept to the trees. It was a good tactical move, that much I have to admit. He managed to separate the team and deplete at least half of it of ammunition. I think that's why he was close up the second time."

"He assumed you had run on empty by then," Enrico guessed.

Barry nodded. "I could see it in his eyes. He was surprised when I pointed the gun at him and I believe he only shot at Chris in hopes that I wasn't going to pull the trigger on him."

"You hit him in the shoulder?"

"In the arm, yes. I think it was more than a graze, he was bleeding quite profusely judging from the blood in the snow."

Barry wanted to inquire why they hadn't taken up Havel's trail immediately, but at that moment Chris walked into the room and both men's attention sprung to him.

"How you holding up?" he asked, gesturing to Chris's nose as he took a seat at the table.

"I'm as good as new," he assured, looking first at Barry and then questioningly at Enrico. "When are we going out for them?"

Enrico cracked him a smile, but shook his head. "Tomorrow is the fastest we can manage."

"Tomorrow?!" Chris echoed, almost jumping up from the chair. "But that's too late!"

Barry put a calming hand on his friend's shoulder, despite sharing his concern. He voiced it to Enrico. "He's right. That's too much time. That's the entire night in between. Havel won't miss his chance."

Enrico remained adamant. "Tomorrow. It's foolish to start the rescue mission now, it's almost nightfall. And to appease you. Havel never attacks at night. All confrontations with him were during day and on the two nightly missions we conducted there was never a sign of him. Besides, he has his injuries to tend to."

Chris's temper flared up. "That's bullshit! We can't know that!"

At the accusation Enrico's voice sharpened and a warning frown appeared on his features. "Watch your mouth, Redfield. Don't forget where you stand."

"I'm the second in command of Alpha team," Chris barked and Barry winced, knowing very well that he'd overstepped the line. Enrico was bad to talk with about ranking issues.

True to Barry's prediction, Enrico rose from his seat, leaning in close to Chris as a sneer left his lips. "Mr Redfield, the recent events obviously impacted on your memory. You might be second in command to the president for all I care, but I'm _Captain_ and after Wesker, both teams answer to _me_ and that includes _you_, too."

Barry gulped and Chris was visibly silenced. He evaded Enrico's gaze, before his shoulders slumped and he sighed. "I want to apologize for my inappropriate behavior, sir."

The Captain of Bravo team took his seat again and the anger was gone from his features. "Should this happen again, I'll have you blocked for future rescue missions and report it to Captain Wesker. Make sure this was the first and last time and what transpired never leaves this room." He looked at Barry then and the man quickly nodded. Nobody would know it from him.

"Very well, then," Enrico said, the tension having left his voice. "We should refocus our efforts on the matter at hand. Chris, I heard you were responsible for the route." He rolled up a map, and Barry realized in relief that it was much more detailed than theirs had been. "We're here and we found you here," he said and pointed to two different spots, marking them with red circles.

Barry and Chris both studied the map, and Chris was able to line up their way. Even the small hiking paths they had used were drawn on the map.

"The first encounter with Havel has been on this way," Chris said and pointed to the section in question. "It's a steep and he managed to force the Captain and Jill off the way. I would assume that they had either tried to follow us back up again or chose the other way instead."

Enrico observed the map for a while, then pointed at the blue spot of paint that marked 'Beaver Lake'. "So they'll go around here, and then take this track up close to the camp."

Chris nodded. "That was my original plan. Jill found the shortcut we took in the end. It led to the main road, and we thought it to be a better plan considering Brad's status. The chance of you finding us on the main road was higher than hiking our way through the forest."

"Understandable."

"But we don't know for sure if they took that way," Barry interjected. "They might have just as well backtracked and followed us up the steep a second time."

"We'll split the team," Enrico said.

"And risked being attacked again?" Chris asked.

"We have enough men to divide equally, so the groups are strong enough to last against Havel. However skilled he might be, he's only one."

"This morning I stopped thinking in numbers, sir. They don't seem to matter to Havel. We were five and he was one, yet he effectively managed to split us and God knows what he's up to right now."

"Let's not start speculating, Chris," Barry said, gripping the cup with his big hand. The steam rose from it like a small smoke signal. Did Jill and the Captain have fire too? It was dark and a look outside proved that the storm was still raging. Barry shuddered. He'd spent one night under the sky, he didn't even want to imagine what it would be like to be forced to repeat the process.

Enrico took a sip of his coffee, then set the mug back on the table with a loud clank. It was meant to catch their attention, and it did.

"I suggest both of you go get some sleep," the Captain of Bravo team said and wiped at his mustache. He gave Chris a determined glare as the marksman opened his mouth to say something. "You are tired and I won't have any discussion about it. This is an order. Disobey it and you'll get guard duty for the camp tomorrow."

With that he rose to his feet, propped his hands on the table and regarded each of them a last time, as if he was trying to read their thoughts from their faces. Eventually he told them, "Good night, gentlemen. Don't worry about the planning. Bravo team will take care of that. Get a hold of Frost. He'll show you to your quarters."

He nodded a last time, then left the room and Barry took the time to scrutinize Chris. The rings under his eyes stood out like big, black bruises and his skin had a deathly pallor to it. When Enrico was gone, Chris caught his gaze.

"What?"

"We should follow his advice."

"We should get our sorry asses out in the snow and search for the missing half of our team, Barry."

"Don't start, Chris. Enrico has a point. It's dark, it's cold, what hopes do we have of sighting anything during the storm?"

"That's exactly what I _mean!_ It's dark, cold and they're out there, with no shelter against the snow and some mad asshole hunting them like quarry!"

"Chris, cut it." The tone in his voice was final. It silenced Chris instantly. Barry thought of himself as a sort of fatherly figure for the team, being there when they needed to talk about something, but Chris was overstepping the line, throwing around with irrational worries and fears. "None of us is happy about the situation, ok? I bet neither the Captain nor Jill are having a great time out there, you're right. But they're STARS, Chris. They're fucking trained for this situation, so stop whining about it. Let's get a hang of Joe, lie down for a few hours, clear our heads. We've got the luxury of a warm bed and a blanket, it would be folly not to make use of it."

Chris wanted to say something, but Barry cut him off with a sharp glare, already pushing the younger STARS member out of the room. They found Joseph quickly, as he was waiting for them on the other side of the door. Probably Enrico had informed him of his task.

He gave them an amicable nod and started to lead the way, looking over his shoulder once. "Man, that guy really got you. You two look like hell."

"That much for consolation," Chris muttered and rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Joe."

Joseph gave him a wink, stopped and opened a door. It lead to a small room with two separate beds in it, and at that moment Barry couldn't think of a more beautiful sight.

"Go flower-picking on the green meadows of dreamland," Joseph advised jokingly, before waving them goodbye and walking off.

--

The next morning everything was ready for take-off. The groups were decided, equipment packed and the storm luckily stopped. The use of a chopper for the rescue mission was briefly considered, but after going out into the open, it was quickly obvious that the wind was still too sharp. It would whip the chopper against the mountain sides like a small girl discarded her doll when she was bored of it.

Chris and Barry were split one on each group. They had two cars, although the main search would probably proceed on foot; they had no chance to take the cars down on the hiking trails.

"You alright, pal?" There was a light poke to his ribs, and then Joseph's ever cheerful face showed up.

Chris nodded. "Can't wait to get my hands on that fucker."

"Don't get your hopes up too high," Joseph cautioned, a grin on his lips. "All of us are calling dibs on Havel's head, what makes you think you'll score first place?"

"Cause in comparison to you, I can aim."

"Quit it now, guys." That was Enrico's voice. He threw them a warning glance. "That's enough. A little more concentration, please."

Both of them fell silent, not really enthusiastic on continuing their discussion anymore. Instead everybody focused their attention back on the path they were walking on. Enrico's group had taken to search the area around the lake, while the group under Barry's order – after yesterday's argument Chris could have been the president himself and Enrico still wouldn't have given him command over a team – secured the way half of Alpha team had been found on. They were in constant contact per radio, although the signal was quite bad. Chris guessed that was because of the angry wind lashing out at them ever so often.

"I got something!"

All eyes were on Forest in that instant. The sharpshooter had scouted out ahead and was now hurrying back to them at a hurried pace. While he usually equaled Joseph's degree of good mood, the expression on his face was quite different now. At best it could be described as uneasy, at worst as seriously alarmed.

"What do you have, Forest?" Enrico bellowed.

"Nothin' pleasant I fear."

Expectant faces waited for an explanation.

"You had better get a look at it yourselves. I can't judge who it's from."

"Who is what from?" Chris asked, picking up pace to follow the Bravo member to his discovery.

Forest half turned to him. "That." He brushed some twigs away and under the bushes Chris could see his findings.

"Blood…" Three big splotches of it, coloring the snow they lay in a dark crimson.

"I reckon it's a few hours old, not more," Forest said. By now the rest of their group had caught up too.

"Let's not make hasty assumptions," Enrico counseled. "We can't be sure it has anything to do with this all."

Joseph nodded. "Could have been an animal."

"What about traces? Footsteps?"

"None I can see." Forest shook his head. "Snowdrifts, maybe. Wind's hard enough. Could cover up any tracks."

"Footsteps perhaps," Chris said. "But apparently not blood. Whatever lost this must have lost more."

Enrico nodded in approval and turned to the whole group. "Split up, search for any signs, but stay in sight of your companions. This might be a well placed trap too."

At his words, people started looking at the trees. That was Havel's favorite point of attack. Chris caught himself risking a glance at the branches too, how they shook in the wind. Of course there was no Havel grinning down at them from above. The trees were devoid of any life. The most they carried was snow, bending the boughs under its weight.

They split as Enrico ordered. Chris had Joseph to his left and the Captain himself to his right. He made sure to search everywhere, brushing away branches, inspecting the bark of the trees for any sign of damage or blood.

At one point he saw Joseph jump up, calling the entire team to where he was. Another blood stain.

"What if it's Havel?" Forest asked.

"Barry claimed he shot him," Joseph said.

"Grazed him. You said this track is fresh. I don't think he'd be so careless and leave us such an obvious sign to follow."

"What about Jill or the Captain?"

The question made Chris grimace. "They'd never leave their wounds untended to. Someone has been profusely bleeding to drip on the ground."

"They could have been in a hurry. Not have time to treat their injuries. They were out here a night, and Havel was with them."

Chris scoffed. "No signs of a fight. I doubt it."

"I'm theorizing."

Enrico put an end to it all. "We've heard enough theories, Mr Speyer. This looks like a trail and trails usually lead somewhere. We should follow it."

But searching for solitary blood stains became unnecessary in the next moment. When suddenly a piercing shot ripped through the silence and was followed by a horrible, guttural scream all of them knew which direction to run into.

**

* * *

This chapter was hardest of all to write. I had only little inspiration and even less time, so I'm glad I finally finished it. Since it's still exam time I want to apologize for the sporadic updates. The story is nearing the peek of the action, so I hope to produce future chapters in shorter intervals.**

**At this point I would also like to heartly thank all of the people who took the time to read and review this story. I'm sorry for not answering you all personally lately, so I will do it now:**

**THANK YOU**

**Without you, corpus delicti wouldn't be what it is. This story lives from its readers' support and I can't say how happy I am that you all stuck around for so long already. You shall be rewarded in the next chapter for your patience. It will be action, action, action and perhaps a little drama. Although the main plot is already thought out, there are still a lot of passages that can be formed to your wish. So, do you want to read anything specific? All I tell you is that the next chapter will include a Jill, Wesker, Havel encounter. If you've got anything on your mind, let me know in a review or PM and I'll see if I can work it in!**


	9. Chapter IX

Chapter IX

Wesker had grabbed Jill's arm the moment the crossbow arrow penetrated the snow, roughly pulling her out of the small clearing, behind a snow-laden tree. It wouldn't be of much protection, not with Havel's good aim, but it might give him enough time to come up with a way to get them out alive of this mess.

Havel disagreed to that. He sent another arrow into the tree they were using as cover. Jill scraped the bag off his shoulder and Wesker desperately tried to unholster his weapon with frozen fingers. He barely felt his hands enclosing around the Samurai Edge, everything a big ball of pain shooting up to his brain.

Behind him Jill's eyes frantically searched the trees and Wesker pointed the gun into the general direction the arrows had come from. His mind was racing, just as his heart, but whatever way he shifted around the benefits and disadvantages, he couldn't see how they would be able to avoid this confrontation.

Jill pressed her back against his and he could see the glimmer of a knife in her hand. Her weapon was still with him, but it was useless in its current condition.

The forest around them fell into muted silence again. The wind roared between the trees, shifting snow from boughs and concealing whatever movement Havel was contemplating. Both STARS had their eyes in thousand places, waited, anticipated and hoped for a mistake on their enemy's side, but Havel was no amateur. He played on professional difficulty.

Suddenly Jill pushed him forward and he followed her judgment without question. She leapt into the opposite direction herself and true to her intuition another crossbow arrow ate into the ground they had stood on a second ago.

His gaze shot upwards instantly, and although Havel's form was no more than a shadow moving to a new position, it was enough to let two bullets lose on it. There was a yelp from up in the trees, a triumphant smirk on Jill's pale face and their opponent's crossbow dropping out of height at the same time.

Jill ran towards the weapon and confiscated it, while Wesker kept his gun trained on the many branches above them.

"No ammo," Jill noted as she jogged up to him, but kept a hold of Havel's crossbow anyway. They couldn't allow it to return to its master.

Wesker gestured for her to move on slowly. They took careful, silent steps, eyes focused on the trees and their deceptive shadows, trying not to be deceived by the wind's misguiding sounds. It seemed to be on Havel's side this fight.

Eventually Wesker lowered the gun, but held on to it with both hands. The hunter might very well wait for the moment they lost their patience. Jill glanced at him from her position, the combat knife still in her grasp. She nodded silently, understanding his tactics. They walked, Jill covering the way ahead, Wesker securing their back route. Both of them kept observing the treeline from the corners of their eyes.

Five minutes they walked like that, high on adrenaline and tense muscles. Slowly the cold crept back in though, the muscles began to soften and ache and a centre of throbbing settled in the side of his chest again. Despite it all, both remained vigilant. It could decide over their lives and neither of them were willing to give it away that easily.

Neither did Havel. Although they had robbed him of his favorite weapon, the hunter had not come unprepared. A projectile missed Wesker's thigh just barely and once again both he and Jill sought cover behind trees.

"Bullets," Jill hissed from her position and gripped the knife even tighter. It wouldn't help her much as long as Havel kept to long distance combat. Wesker exhaled, a new wave of adrenaline coursing through his body. He clicked off the safety of his Samurai Edge, gave Jill a silent nod, then leant against the frozen trunk of the tree, risking a glance at where the shot had come from.

Unsurprisingly, there was no sign of Havel. He was playing cat and mouse with them. Or rather predator and prey.

"Watch out!" Jill suddenly screamed, her eyes going wide.

Wesker's did too as the butt of a rifle connected with his head, sending him stumbling backwards, clawing at the offended spot with his hands. His vision went black instantly and he fought for balance and consciousness for a moment, using a tree for support.

The fight raged on without him. Havel had descended from the tree, growling maliciously at Jill as he wielded the hunting rifle. He must have ran out of ammunition, for he held it like a piercing weapon, rather than a shooting one.

He caught one worried glance from Jill and did his best to nod that he was ok, standing against the tree for another moment. Havel had stopped minding fhim. He was concentrating fully on his new target. Jill was only armed with a knife, but being trained as STARS she could deal lethal blows with just that weapon.

The two opponents circled each other once, before Havel plunged the tip of the rifle towards Jill, using it as a spear. She evaded the strike with an experienced sidestep, rushed forward and slashed for Havel's throat.

The knife almost touched, but Havel managed to save himself with a clumsy backward leap – jumping directly into Wesker's arms. The STARS captain quickly slung his arm around the hunter's throat, pulling, cutting off his air supply.

Havel tried to ring free, punching the rifle into the direction of Wesker's head, but this time Wesker was fast enough to push the weapon away, throwing it to the ground. Havel adopted a new technique then and bit into his captor's arm, only to be punished by a knock to the head. It didn't send him into unconsciousness, but elicited a pained groan from his lips.

The next move caught Wesker off guard though. When a sharp elbow pierced his ribs he let go of his hostage immediately, bending forward in pain. Havel used the momentary freedom to tackle him and both went flying to the ground, Havel on top.

Wesker managed to land a punch in the other man's face and turned the tide. His Samurai Edge had gone flying during the fall, but from the corner of his eye he could see Jill picking it up from the ground already.

The next thing he realized was Havel's fist in his ribs again (he must have listened in on their conversation earlier) and the man fighting to get on top. As Wesker struggled, Havel groped for his belt and for a moment, this act seemed confusing. In the next though, Wesker realized with horror what the man was up to, but was unable to stop him.

Havel sprung to his feet, Jill's frozen Beretta in hand. He pointed it at its rightful owner, who in turn has Wesker's discarded weapon trained at the hunter.

Nobody moved.

There was heavy breathing and steam rising from agitated bodies. Wesker held one protective hand over his side, still lying in the snow. Movement would only provoke Havel. Jill exchanged questioning glances with him. His answer, silence, told her to stand her ground and wait.

Havel had his finger on the trigger. He didn't press, but it was there, ready to pull.

"Drop your weapon," he hissed and turned the gun away from Jill, to Wesker. "Drop it, or he drops."

It was the first time they had actually heard him talk. His voice was barely a whisper, marked by exhaustion. But even like that, it held authority to it.

Jill's gaze searched Wesker's again. She could follow the command or shoot. The odds were against them. Slowly, Wesker nodded, and Jill did too, in response. She bent down slowly, placed the Beretta on the ground and took one step back, out of its reach.

A grin developed on Havel's face. "Smart move." The frozen gun moved from Wesker, back to Jill. Apparently he considered her the bigger danger at the moment.

"Now, turn around," he commanded.

Without even asking Wesker for advice, Jill shook her head with determination. "No."

Havel's grin faded instantly. His expression dropped in disappointment. When he spoke, his words were flat and cold, like the wind whipping through the trees.

"Fine," he said. "Have it your way. Take the bullet between your eyes, instead of the back of your head."

Jill's muscles tensed, Havel's finger closed in around the trigger and Wesker put all his strength into a kick, catching Havel in the back of his leg, bringing him out of balance.

The shot went off nonetheless and there was a piercing scream, silencing even the wind for a moment. In the next, Havel dropped to his knees and in that moment horrible, agonizing pain mirrored in the depths of his eyes as he clutched the bloody pulp that had once been his hand. The warning Wesker had given to Jill earlier, about the gun exploding if the barrel was frozen with ice, had become reality.

Wesker threw the screaming man to the ground, restraining him as he lashed out blindly, now driven by blind agony and rage. The bloody appendage brushed over his throat and left a bright red streak in its wake. Jill was at their side the next moment, her combat knife in hand. With one swift blow, she knocked the handle against Havel's temples and the wreathing man went limp in Wesker's arms.

"We need to tie off his arm, or he'll bleed to death," Wesker stated and looked at Jill.

His teammate gave him an almost disbelieving look.

"He might be a killer, but we have orders to bring him back alive," Wesker elaborated. "Bring me the bag."

At that Jill moved and was back a second later, dropping the desired item beside their unconscious captive. She fumbled for the first aid kit and lay it out in the snow. It was mostly empty apart from one roll of bandages. Wesker quickly applied them to Havel's hand, then sat back in the snow, exhausted.

"Are you alright, sir?" Jill asked, bereaving Havel of whatever extra weaponry he might carry.

Wesker nodded, albeit slowly and touched his side, grimacing. "He must have known they were cracked. He hit right on, every time."

"The asshole did his homework. No more of that though. As soon as we're meeting up with the Bravos, this guy is seeing prison bars for the rest of his life."

"I'll personally see to it."

They proceeded to tie Havel's hands behind his back, collecting scattered items and after a short rest, they contemplated on how to carry the unconscious man. Lifting, let alone carrying anything heavy was extremely painful for Wesker, and Jill couldn't handle both the bag and the criminal.

"Should we wait until he wakes?" Jill asked, not able to come up with other possibilities.

"We don't have much of a choice. He's hardly dangerous anymore. We'll keep the gun pressed to his head. He'll cooperate."

Jill nodded and slumped back in the snow. She was shivering lightly. When she noticed that Wesker watched, she smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "I was actually warm, while it lasted. I think the teeth clattering is going to start soon again. Aren't you cold?"

"I give it little thought. There is not much we can do to change it."

"Too true."

Jill wasn't actually done with speaking, her mouth still half open when they heard a sound behind them. Instantly, both of them were on their feet, Jill training Wesker's weapon on whatever danger had come to face them – or was it just the wind?

No, neither of both. Seconds later Chris Redfield appeared and the expression on his faced matche the relief both Jill and Wesker felt.

"I found them!" he yelled, as he ran towards them and soon after Chris, various members of Bravo team filled the perimeter. They were given two blankets and Joseph Frost properly handcuffed Havel, who slowly awoke. Joseph sent him back into the darkness with the butt of his gun.

"You look dreadful," Chris stated gleefully and pinched Jill's cheek. "You're almost blue." He got a slap and a curse for that.

Wesker walked alongside Enrico Marini, briefing him quickly about the events that had occurred.

"So Alpha team reaps the rewards again?" the Captain of Bravo asked.

Wesker nodded, but only a little pride showed alongside the exertion.

"The car is not far from here. I'll send one of the boys to get it closer and inform the other group that the mission is over. We'll be home in no time."

* * *

**One more epilogue-y chapter to go, ladies and gentlemen. Although the action is almost over, stay tuned for next time, where you will get to read the final chapter, the ending quote, the 'END' sign and a small preview on the next work! **

**AN ENORMOUS HUGGLE-TACKLE-GLOMP TO ALL PEOPLE WHO REVIEWED**


	10. Chapter X

Chapter X

The walls of the hospital room were a sterile white and it smelled distinctly of disinfectant. Outside the snow had started to fall again, placing another coat of white over Raccoon City.

In the bed beside the window Brad Vickers slept peacefully, covered with a set of heavy blankets. His injury had been seen to by the doctors. Further complications weren't anticipated and after a necessary time of healing, he wouldn't suffer of any after effects of the broken leg.

Opposite of him on the other side lay Jill Valentine, sitting in her bed and leaning against the propped up pillow. In her bandaged hands she held a copy of Raccoon Today, catching up on the events they had missed during the mission. Jill had sustained minor to middle grade freezings and a light pneumonia. Luck had really been on her side, the doctors had said; it could have ended much worse.

Chris Redfield was outside on the corridor, waiting for the coffee machine to serve him with the hot drink. He selected a cup for himself and a hot chocolate for Jill. With only a broken nose, Chris was free to go home already, but he decided to stay with the rest of his team until matters were cleared once and for all.

Barry and Bravo Team were at the RPD, evaluating the final data on Clive Havel. Havel had been given the medical attention he required - there had been more blood than real harm done to his hand - and was currently recovering in another room, under constant supervision from Joseph Frost and Kenneth Sullivan.

His near future was a foregone conclusion, it only needed to be transferred on paper and approved by the two STARS captains and police officer Brian Irons. Havel would spend the rest of his life in a high security prison some way from Raccoon. He was charged for cold blooded murder and homicide, various evidence and witnesses would testify against him when the time came.

Havel didn't have close family or friends, relatives of any kind were impossible to find. He had been a trained hunter, working for Arklay National Park as forest ranger, but had been fired two months ago due to unprofessional behavior. What exactly had led to his discharge was unknown, since only his former partner - one of the first victims - knew of the exact details. In total, eight people had died in the madness, and five officers had been injured. It was a remarkable count for a single man; and an even greater motivation for the STARS teams to improve their skills.

The coffee machine beeped its finish. Chris took both steaming cups and went towards Jill and Brad's room, a half grin on his face as he gestured towards Jill's hot chocolate.

"You don't know how often I had to think of this during the last two days," Jill confessed as she put away the newspaper and replaced it with the mug, holding it a little haphazardly due to the bandages.

Chris chuckled. "No wonder. It's been pretty cold out there. You're real tough, you know? Insisting on your daily bath even in the most extreme situations."

The comment made Jill roll her eyes and snort mockingly.

Chris patted her on the shoulder and gave her a wink. "At least you get a new weapon now."

"I was happy with my old."

"I bet you wouldn't have been if it had blown your hand off."

"That's because it was iced and full of frozen water."

"You and the Captain were really lucky Havel didn't notice that fact. Saved your lives."

"We would have managed anyway," Jill said in defense, then sighed. "But of course you're right. The whole fall-into-water thing had its benefit, after all."

"How come he didn't know though?" Chris suddenly asked, his expression thoughtful.

"Didn't know about what?"

"Havel. The gun. Wesker said he knew about his cracked ribs and used it as an advantage in the fight, but the weapon caught him completely off guard."

Jill nodded, silent for a moment. "I guess - I can't say for sure - but that Havel knew about Wesker's ribs might have indirectly been my fault. I asked if something was wrong while we walked, because he kept resting one side. Havel must have listened in on us at that time. As for the gun, well, I can't remember anything, but Wesker told me he took it as soon as he pulled me out of the water. And that was in the middle of the storm, in the middle of that goddamn lake. I don't see how Havel could have observed us there without giving himself away. He must have thought its a secondary weapon in the final confrontation and there really was no time to check on the state of the gun."

"Probably, yeah."

"How's the Captain, by the way? Haven't seen him around yet."

Chris shrugged and sipped some more at his coffee. "Getting his ribs put back together, I guess. Last time I saw him he was giving Enrico orders on further procedures and signed some document - presumably Havel's imprisonment - then he walked off with a doctor. Broke two ribs and cracked a third, as far as I know. He also came down with a slight cold, but I guess that hasn't surprised anyone."

"It was goddamn chilling out there. I was sure I could say goodbye to my fingers and toes after that plunge."

Chris giggled. "Tough Jilly. When do they let you go home?"

"I don't know. If the doctor said anything on his first visit I didn't pay attention."

"Can't be too long," Chris said and shrugged.

"I guess so."

They drank the coffee and hot chocolate and put the empty cups on the nightstand beside Jill's bed.

"I think I'm going to go check on the others," Chris said. "See if I can find the Captain, or get a hang of the Bravos."

"You do that," Jill agreed with a nod and raised her bandaged hands demonstratively. "I'll be right here for another while, keep Brad some company."

They looked over at the sleeping Alpha pilot and Chris grinned. "Brad's missed out on all the fun."

"I bet it hasn't been a walk through the park for him either."

"He'll be on his feet again soon. At least he doesn't have to write a long report on the case."

"That's not very funny, Chris."

"Nevermind me then. I'll leave you two alone. Later, Jill."

"Take care, Chris."

---

Wesker read the last lines of the form Enrico had brought him earlier, taking the pen from beside the bed and scribbling his signature at the bottom, along with the Bravo Captain and Chief Irons.

This and three other pages detailed Clive Havel's crimes and would finally send him out of their lives. Apart from the reports of his team he would get later that week, the case was officially closed.

Wesker sighed, putting the clipboard with paper and pen on the nightstand. He was careful not to in-, or exhale too briskly and avoid any brusque movement. Two broken ribs and a third cracked one were the result of his trip into the wild and if it hadn't been for Havel's knowledge of his injuries and the punches they sustained, the doctor had told him he would have gotten away with only bruises.

Irons had agreed to give Alpha team the three days off - with the exception of Vickers, who'd be out of commission for longer. Someone knocked at the door and Wesker half expected to see one of the officers enter to collect the forms.

When a white coat appeared in the doorway, he arched an eyebrow. It wasn't the doctor - what was his name, George Hamilton? - but another man. In his mid-thirties, with dirty blond hair and the signs of an unshaved beard, the man looked as if he hadn't seen a bed in the last few days. Dark circles adorned his eyes and his skin was pale, almost sickly so. He had a stock of papers and folders clasped under his arm. He put them on the nightstand and dropped into the chair beside Wesker's hospital bed, visibly exhausted.

"You look worse than me," Wesker assessed.

The man rolled his eyes, and waved his hand. "Don't flatter yourself. You don't have a mirror."

Wesker smirked. "Neither do you, apparently. You should work less. But I guess catching up on old times isn't why you're here."

"No. Spencer sends me. You're quite in delay with the paperwork for the Arklay Labs. He said this is the perfect opportunity to make up for lost time."

"Why, he seems to know exactly how I like to spend my free time..."

"I hear the sarcasm, Albert. But really, it's your fault. You keep insisting on staying Head Counselor there."

"Only until someone with enough brains is recruited into the company. You'd say the researchers these days are as mindless as the carriers they're experimenting on. The whole facility would go into ruins."

"I see where you're coming from. We've got the same problem over at our place." He took a glance at his watch, sighing. "I better head back before they blow something up." In a mumble he added, "Incompetent bunch."

"Take a break sometime," Wesker offered. "You look like a ghost."

"Thank you for your concern, Albert. Enjoy the paperwork." He stood up, brushed his coat straight and ran a hand through his greasy hair.

"Greetings to Annette and Sherry," Wesker said. "Thanks for playing the message boy, William. Now run back to your labs before they manage the breakthrough without you."

The comment seemed to unsettle the researcher for a moment. He contemplated to say something, opened his mouth, but decided against it eventually. Waving a short goodbye he left the hospital room and Wesker could hear his hurried steps echoing down the corridor until he turned the far corner.

Forcing himself to take a look at the work Birkin had left for him, Wesker sighed. It turned into a wince as a wrong movement triggered pain in his side.

What he saw was a great waste of paper and time, but he knew that he wouldn't get around to do it. The head researchers over at Arklay were poking knives in his ribs about it anyway, and right now that was the last thing Wesker needed.

Still, he didn't lean over to grab any of the folders. He couldn't say who looked worse in the end, Birkin or he, but the struggle concerning the RPD forms had eaten up all of his patience already. If he couldn't have three free days, then at least one to the end.

So instead of starting to fill out the reports that needed to be done for Arklay, Wesker took the novel Chris Redfield had left him when he had come to visit earlier.

"It's a crime story", Chris had claimed as he handed over the book.

With a grin he would add, "Full of twists and turns. It'll keep you hooked till the end."

_

* * *

_

Years of love have been forgot, In the hatred of a minute.

_-- Edgar Allan Poe_

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

**So, it is done. The ending quote refers to Clive Havel's motifs. While he was dedicated to his job and hobby as a hunter and forester for year, whatever happened during the incident with his partner that led to his discharge changed his entire view of the world. Things like that happen everyday.**

**With that I would like to say a huge thank you to all those who stuck around till the end of the story. You guys rock my world, and you should know that. I can't say how much I owe you for keeping up with my slow updates (sadly, this uni year turned out to be more challenging and time-consuming than I had initially planned) and you shall be rewarded with a lot more one shots and stories in due time. The release of RE5 gives me a lot of facts that have to be worked on.**

**Which is, why exactly the next piece will be another pre-mansion adventure. Here, a small sneak preview:**

**sine sole sileo  
**_without the sun i'm silent  
_Investigating a new strain of Progenitor in Africa, Birkin and Wesker find more than they bargained for. Little do they know what effects the pathogen has on a host's mind.

[…]Birkin held on to the flashlight as if he was gripping life's last threads. It was the only thing he could relate to in the absolute darkness surrounding him, made of cold stone walls, brute, rugged rock and the smell of stuffy air that hadn't seen the outside world in years.

He wondered where Wesker was, _if_ Wesker was still alive at all. He wondered what had happened to the others, but all of this was just fleeting thought, grasped in one moment and lost in the next. He was too busy concentrating on his surroundings, jump at every suspicious noise, trying to keep his heart from its attempt to escape his ribcage and flee this gruesome place. He held the flashlight in cramped hands, and they hurt, but he didn't care, didn't dare open his grip around the only source of light there was.

The fear of being alone in the dark, he realized, wasn't really about that, about being alone. It was that absurd, pulsing horror in the back of your head reminding you that you might, after all, not be alone at all. […]

**This story will be M rated, so make sure to adjust your settings. I won't give a date for posting it yet, but I want to have most of it written by the time the first chapter goes up. Stand alone one-shots might be uploaded in between, to keep you interested.**

**See you soon!**


End file.
